


Sargasso's Sea

by AsherTye



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types, Sonic the Hedgehog: The Animated Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsherTye/pseuds/AsherTye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a message arrives from the Frozen Tundra, Rotor Tusker heads off to save his family and herd.  Upon arrival he meets the deadly Sargasso, the Ixian Master of Water.  But the dark wizard has plans for the mechanic, and if Rotor succeeds, he's promised to release Rotor's family.  Oh what is a walrus to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have you noticed the severe lack of stories involving Rotor? I’ve done some checking around and that pudgy little walrus actually has a rather impressive fan following, which leads me to question why he’s so ignored when it comes to stories. It is to that end that I present a Rotor tale that features none of the other mainstream Freedom Fighters (save in mentioning), and that also means no Sonic and Tails as well. Read, review, and enjoy, and who knows, I might just make more of these.

“Now you shall pay the price for foolishly defying my will,” the lobster hissed as he held tight to young Rotor’s struggling body. The teenaged walrus’s lungs felt like they were going to explode as he was held underwater by his adversary. Though he was at home in the water, the Tusker was still a mammal, and needed to breathe air to survive. This, combined with his recent exertions attempting to evade the pair of feral mako sharks that had been sent to rend him by this very lobster, left him completely at the mercy of the aquatic arthropod, even if his body had been in the best of shape and not battered and bruised. Just above him, no more than a few feet, he could see the clear surface water of the northern seas that were his home, inviting him to break it and fill his lungs with life giving oxygen. Still his lobster assailant clung to him, holding him under the waves despite his valiant efforts to escape. Slowly his vision began to blur as darkness descended on his mind, his body slowly becoming still as it was released to sink into the depths below. The sneering face of Sargasso leered down at him as he lost consciousness his mind unable to comprehend that it was here of all places that he would meet an untimely end…

_& Skeeter, Mom… I’m sorry. I failed you.&_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
Two days previously  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The sun shone brightly on the village of Knothole’s improbably existing docks. Robotnik had always been secure in the knowledge that, though the Freedom Fighters were a perpetual thorn in his side, they were a landlocked one and, as far as he knew, lacking in the ability to maintain a permanent aquatic staging ground to attack his watery holdings. This, combined with the fact that their greatest champion was not known for his love of water, left the despotic dictator feeling secure in the idea that the oceans of Mobius, but for a few “minor” annoyances, were his to plunder at will.

After more than a decade battling the ever more resourceful Freedom Fighters, Robotnik really should have known better. 

Built on a medium sized lake hidden within the Great Forest but easily accessible to Knothole, the docks were the actual brainchild of General D’Coolette, even if they had been rather elegantly designed by Charles Hedgehog. The coyote had realized that, though Knothole did provide an excellent fallback position for the kingdom should it lose its war with MegaCentral, they were essentially cut off from all ways to connect with their allies. Flying was a risky proposal at best, but the General reasoned that a submersible would be a most elegant way to sneak past enemy blockades. Thus had Sir Charles hit upon the idea of using an underground tunnel to covertly connect the lake with the Sea of Acorn, and thus with the surrounding oceans of the world. 

Of course the war had ended in Acorn’s favor and Knothole proved unnecessary. As the rustic village began to be directed towards becoming a royal retreat instead of a military fallback, many of its former features, designed to repel armed invasion on a mass scale or subvert occupying forces, were removed to allow for a more relaxed feeling of peace and tranquility. The underwater tunnel, however, remained, deemed unworthy of warranting removal. Then Robotnik had taken over, and Knothole had found itself gang pressed into serving its original purpose, that of a fallback position safe from the horrid arms of an occupying force.

It is said that Necessity is the mother of Invention, a good saying that well describes much of the items and tactics at the Freedom Fighters disposal. Robotnik’s presence made it necessary for them to find ways to circumvent his detection, and thus had they developed devices that allowed them to do so, such as waterwheel generators and economized farm plots. For one intrepid Mobian however, though Necessity was indeed the mother of Invention, Possession served as an extremely eager father, especially with Ingenuity serving as midwife. In Rotor’s case, he possessed a secret underwater passage that gave access to the rest of Mobius by way of submarine, a fact that, in his fertile mind at least, necessitated that he have a submarine with which to use it. Thus had he built the first of the devices currently taking up residence at this improbable boathouse; the Bathysphere. 

Small and ovoid shaped, the Bathysphere was utilitarian in design, but it was big enough on the inside to house three passengers, more than fast enough to evade Robotnik’s underwater minions, and came with an array of accessories that only served to increase its usefulness on missions where it was needed. Indeed, such a success was the Bathysphere that Rotor found himself commissioned to create another submarine, the aptly named Sea Fox, for his youngest friend, the fox named Tails. Though he himself had never actually ridden in it, it being originally under an order of dry-dock from Princess Sally; Tails had confided in Rotor that the machine ran like a dream. Indeed the Sea Fox had quickly become the vulpine’s favorite possession, on which he worked side by side with Rotor to maintain and improve upon its design, though this position was eventually usurped by the fox’s own invention, the powerful biplane known as the Tornado.

And so the submarine had fallen into neglect, or had at least as far as Tails was concerned, though the younger inventor constantly bragged that he would one day find a way to attach the Sea Fox to the Tornado and thus have a machine that was in all ways all-terrain. But Rotor had not forgotten about either machine, and often did he travel down to the docks to perform maintenance on both. It was here, more so than in Knothole, that he felt most at home, comforted by the sounds of water filling his ears that reminded him of his homeland in the frozen Northern Territories where his mother and younger brother had been when Robotnik’s coup had begun. For the longest time the walrus had not known what had happened to them, and then he had found out that, realizing robots did not function so well in the cold and wet slush of the north, Robotnik had forgone robotcizing them in favor of merely brainwashing them into doing the grunt work for one of his convoluted plans to conquer Mobius, a plan Rotor had stopped though the entire herd had remained brainwashed and had had to be left in the care of a local penguin colony. Though Rotor still held out hope that one day he would be able to free his family and friends’ minds from their prison, he at least knew them to be safe.

Today Rotor again found himself on his back underneath a propped up Sea Fox, his Bathysphere bobbing serenely in the water behind him as his worked on the younger sub’s engine, almost as though it were a puppy eagerly awaiting attention from its master. Holding a wrench in his hand the walrus proceeded to tighten the cap of the Sea Fox’s crank case, having just finished replacing the motor oil inside. Long ago Tails had used the oil covering a hapless seagull to fill this case and allow the brand new submarine to go on its very first adventure. To Rotor’s knowledge, the kit hadn’t realized that the oil he’d used had been low grade and worthless, good only for a single trip before it had worn out, and that the walrus had been the one to replace that bad oil with some of his own supply of the fresh stuff, subtly of course, so as not to incur Sally’s wrath. Slowly, deliberately, the walrus worked, grime and grease beginning to cover his purple fur as a result of his labor of love.

“Rotor,” a voice called, one that the mechanic couldn’t readily place. Startled somewhat, Rotor attempted to lift his head to see over his protruding belly only to accidentally hit it against the metal hull of the Sea Fox. Dazed for a few minutes, the mechanic’s head swam as he was treated to a double vision view of the lake and his Bathysphere sitting in the water… and the dolphin treading in place right beside it, a worried look on his face. “Rotor, we need help,” the dolphin once more intoned. Searching his memory for a name to match the face he knew he recognized.

“Bottlenose?” the walrus asked, wondering where the epidemic of truly bizarre names that had afflicted his generation had come from. 

“Yes and the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters need help,” the dolphin said, referring to his teammates who were one of those “minor” thorns preventing Robotnik’s domination of the oceans. 

“What’s wrong?” Rotor asked, fully expecting a tale of Robotnik’s renewed interest in spoiling the waters of the planet. What he got was something wholly different.

“They’ve been captured in the Northern Territories, all of them. I was the only one who was able to get away and try to find help, so I came to Knothole.”

“How? What happened?” 

“I told you they were captured, in the Northern seas,” Bottlenose urgently. “We were trying to save the walrus herds and…” At the mention of the herds, Rotor’s nonexistent ears perked up as he got right into the other aquatic mammal’s face.

“What do you mean the walrus herds? What’s happened?”

“No time, we have to leave; we have to save them…” So saying Bottlenose turned around in the water and began to dive, swimming away from the distressed and confused walrus. Thinking quickly, Rotor grabbed a sheet of paper and quickly scribbled a message. If he waited long enough to go get the others for help, chances were good they’d lose Bottlenose and then he might never see his family again. Though it wasn’t exactly abnormal for the walrus to be off by himself, it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed his absence from Knothole and came looking. Pinning the note to the still raised Sea Fox, Rotor jumped into the Bathysphere and started it up, it engine purring softly as he pulled away from the docks and made the submersible lower under the water. So busy was he in his rushed pursuit of the dolphin that he failed to notice how the wind created by his ship’s hasty departure pulled free the note from its spot on the Sea Fox and it fell daintily into the water below.

& & &

The Northern Territories were a great distance from the Kingdom of Acorn proper by land, often taking days of travel by even the swiftest air car. The waterways of Mobius held a much different story, however, and this was the route the Bathysphere took as Rotor expertly piloted it towards his destination. Inside he listened as Bottlenose the Dolphin told him the story of how he had come to be separated from his friends.

For weeks the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters had heard rumors that something was up in the Northern Seas, but as news had been steady and uninterrupted, they had thought little of it. Then, only a few days ago, that news had stopped completely. The Quadruple F had gotten worried, especially considering that that was where the family of one of the core Freedom Fighters in Knothole were known to reside. And thus they had gone to investigate. 

Though everything had started out normally enough, as the group had progressed into the frigid waters of the north, strange things had begun to be noticed. For one, the fish and other non-sentient denizens of the deep, save the simplest and least motile members, were nowhere to be seen. Cautiously they’d proceeded onward, fully aware that something was most definitely not right. This sense was reinforced when they came upon the ice flow where in the walrus herd had been corralled to keep them from wandering mindlessly off and being caught by Robotnik emptied of all its occupants. The herd had not been difficult to find, as had all the other missing sea creatures. They were all at the bottom of the sea, working in a cavernous opening inside an underwater mountain.

Someone was mining something, and they were using the brainwashed walruses, as well as several more animals, to do it. Bottlenose described in amazement the sight of seeing a small walrus sporting a red beanie cap, whom Rotor immediately recognized as his little brother Skeeter, approach a giant mako shark without any hesitation, a large basket in his hands. Instead of opening its jaw and devouring the foolish youngster whole, the shark had instead shaken its head, causing Skeeter to drop the contents of the basket, which turned out to be a number of glittering rocks, to the ocean floor before returning to the mines. Having seen enough, the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters decided it was time to do something about this exploitation.

And that had been their first mistake. Having spent all their lives battling the mechanical minions of Dr. Robotnik, the Quad-F had found they were completely unprepared for the attack that came. 

“The herd attacked you?” Rotor asked of the dolphin. When he had left his family and friends, they had been barely able to feed and care for themselves, hence why he had left them in the care of the penguins, hoping they would be safe. In any event, his people had always been peaceful, unwilling to hurt even flies. This meant there was someone controlling them. As any Freedom Fighters did when confronted with the question of the identity of their enemy, Rotor’s mind couldn’t help but turn to Robotnik.

“But that wasn’t all. We got attacked by fish, sharks, jellyfish, every feral creature in the area,” Bottlenose explained. “We were completely outnumbered, and we couldn’t even fight back. Big Fluke was the first to be taken, he was just too big to handle so many smaller attackers without crushing them, and so he wound up being an easy target for them to take down. P.B. Jellyfish went down next. He kept using his electric stingers, trying to knock them out but…”

“But P.B. didn’t have enough juice to knock them out,” Rotor realized.

“It was at that point that Ray and I realized we had to retreat,” Bottlenose continued, referring to his manta friend over the flying squirrel currently living with the Chaotix. “We tried to out swim the walruses, but the makos got behind us and cut off our retreat. I’m a faster swimmer, so Ray told me he’d hold them off while I went for help. I didn’t want to, but under the circumstances…”

“Don’t feel upset, I don’t know of anyone who wouldn’t,” the walrus said, more because he wouldn’t have found out about this if Bottlenose had stayed over believing it was the right choice to make. He was not there so he had no right to judge the dolphin’s actions.

“But that’s when I got surprise number two… Fluke was able to overtake me and got in my way.”

“Fluke?! But you said the walrus’s stopped him.” Rotor wasn’t sure he was overly willing to listen as to how a blue whale would have been able to get away from his herd.

“They did, but then… Something had happened to him,” Bottlenose explained. “He had the same blank stare in his eyes that the miners did, like someone else was staring out from his eyes. And he wasn’t alone. P.B. Jellyfish was there too. He’s the one who did this to me.” As the dolphin swam he turned over to expose his belly, on which several burned scars that looked like they’d been made by several electric whips striking him.

“How did you get away?”

“Sheer dumb luck and being too stupid to consider the consequences of my actions,” said Bottlenose. “There are underwater tunnels all over the northern territories. A great-uncle of mine, Ecco, showed me how to find them. I found one and dove into it. Since I’m faster than P.B. and smaller than Fluke, they couldn’t catch me.”

“Smart.”

“Not really. It was almost time for me to surface and get air. If I hadn’t found that underwater air pocket…” There was no need to say more. As a fellow aquatic mammal, Rotor knew exactly what the risks were when you went underground, especially if you hadn’t taken a breath recently. “Once I got out, I took a breath and headed straight for Knothole as quickly as I could to get help.”

“I see,” Rotor said, suddenly feeling much less confident about being able to handle this situation without help. The image of his poor mother and baby brother though, forced to mine whatever it was that whoever was controlling them was looking for, was enough to shove such thoughts from his mind. Besides, even if he had brought the others along, there was little they could actually do to help beyond piloting the submarines. He was the only member of their group built for underwater missions.

The Bathysphere’s radar began to blip as it began to receive a large number of signals indicating, to Rotor at least, that they were nearing the location of his herd. Unwilling to leave their fates to chance, Rotor had implanted tracking devices on each of the walruses before he’d left, allowing him to easily find them should the need arise. Working the controls, he slowed his ship’s progress, not wanting to fall into the same trap Bottlenose had. As he did so, he could almost swear he felt a picking sensation at the back of his head, like someone pinching his brain itself. Out of habit he swatted his imaginary pest.

“What was it?” Bottlenose asked, noticing Rotor’s odd behavior. “What did you feel?”

“It was nothing,” the walrus said dismissively, though his cetacean friend was less than willing to drop the subject.

“As we approached the dig, all of us felt a peculiar feeling, as though someone was knocking at the back door to our minds, and I’m getting that feeling again,” he explained in a fearful voice. “Someone’s controlling the minds of everything in the area, and I think that that feeling’s the signal that it’s trying to control us.”

“Got it,” Rotor said in understanding. As they approached to within half a mile of what Rotor assumed to be the mining operation, the walrus cut all power to his engines as he hid the Bathysphere. Though an excellent recon ship there was little need to run the risk of its bright red paint showing up against the darker oceanic colors. Once the ship was secured, Rotor stepped towards the air lock, closing the door and allowing water from the outside to pour in. As the room filled, the walrus took a deep breath and opened the door to the outside.

For a brief moment, despite the layer of blubbery fat that insulated him, Rotor shivered. He had spent far too long in warmer climes and his body had gotten used to such temperatures, as evidenced by the fact that he had lost weight while there. Acidly he reminded himself that he would need to do some heavy binging before he eventually moved back to the north. A skinny walrus would not survive here. 

Out in the ocean, Rotor swam up to the waiting Bottlenose and the two proceeded over to a secure spot where they could observe the activity. Below them the walrus herd was indeed working what appeared to be a digging operation of some kind, though they were not the only ones. Feral animals of all kinds abounded through the site helping in one way of another. Never had the young Tusker seen so many fish, squid, jellyfish, and other members of the marine ecosystem in one place.

The sound of coughing caught his ears as he noticed a young walrus calf suddenly begin to choke as the breath he’d taken began to run out. Only Bottlenose’s intervention prevented Rotor from charging into the area and pulling the lad to the surface to breathe, loss of the element of surprise or no. As it turned out, this action proved unnecessary as the water above the young walrus seemed to part, funneling a shaft of air down directly into the calf’s open mouth. Able to breathe again, the walrus did so quite avidly, taking one or two puffs form the open pocket before it closed up.

“Miserable mammals,” a dark voice could be heard to say as an even darker shape swam nearby, flanked on either side by two of the largest mako sharks Rotor had ever seen in all his life. “That I could not find anything else with hands to dig is the only reason I tolerate their presence in my greatest hour of triumph.” Rotor’s eyes watched as the shape revealed itself to be a lobster, and a fairly big one at that. Large claws and a fanned tail erupted from a blue suit that was covered in an equally blue shawl-like cape as the figure glided forward in a very unlobsterlike fashion. “That I, the mighty Sargasso, am forced to rely on these useless walruses is perhaps destiny’s cruelest test of my worth.” Sargasso glided down to the calf that was still recovering, a nasty look in his beady yellow eyes as his antennae came forward. His hunched form bent over more to allow one of his smaller, secondary arms to grip the boy’s unresisting chin. “Get back to work, or I shall feed you to my sharks.” Under normal circumstances this might have made a child that small jump in fright, but this was not the case here. No clearer proof was needed that the walruses were all still brainwashed then when the boy gave no reaction and meekly went back to his job.

“I guess he’s the one who’s behind this whole thing, huh?” Bottlenose said. The Mobians of the water had long since figured out the ability to speak underwater, but Rotor, who knew his abilities to dive were limited, chose only to nod his head. Dolphins could stay underwater much longer than walruses, and it would do Rotor no good if he had to return to the Bathysphere, or even the surface, for another breath so quickly. It could even be fatal. With a clawed finger, the tusker pointed towards the mine the walruses and other miners were coming in and out of. “We’re not going to try to free your herd?” Bottlenose asked in surprise.

“Not yet,” Rotor answered with as much speed as he could yet still remain intelligible. “Need see mine.” So saying the two Freedom Fighters inched their way down to the open sea cave. As he did so, Rotor couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about this entire area. Like he’d seen it somewhere before. Carefully the duo moved down to an unused underwater mining cart, with Bottlenose sliding inside while Rotor put on his best blank face and began to push it through the mind. If Sargasso noticed he had one more worker than he’d started with, it meant little to him as he watched the walruses’ procession with great distaste on his face. Once inside, Rotor continued to follow his brethren, his eyes darting from side to side as he took in the makeshift and dangerous mine. One good seaquake would be more than enough to collapse the whole thing… and trap anyone inside who remained. All around him Rotor watched as walruses worked hard, the larger ones digging into the hard walls of the mines as the smaller ones, with help from the fish, carted the rocks out. Every so often he saw a walrus begin to choke as his breath began to give out, only to watch in fascination as a funnel of air inserted itself into their mouth. More fish patrolled the shafts, clearly there to prevent any disruption in the labor force that would hinder Sargasso’s efforts, and Rotor fought a fearful gulp as he imagined some of the more vicious animals figuring out that he was not under their lobster master’s spell.

Finally he’d seen enough and the walrus veered off down an empty mineshaft quickly, Bottlenose emerging from his hiding spot once they were out of sight.

“So what’s the plan?” Rotor wondered about that himself. Machines and technology he understood, combat tactics were another story entirely. The thing he wanted most was to get Sargasso to release his herd and the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters, but with so many dangerous sea creatures on his side, and his ability to control them, Rotor doubted he could force the lobster to do so. And then there was the fact that the entire herd was essentially also his hostage. That left trying to bribe the arthropod with something he wanted. 

As he’d passed amongst the workers, he couldn’t help but notice that while most carried out lots of broken rock, quite a few were hauling out what looked like gold and jewels. Not simply gold ore or broken jewels, however, but actual coins, ingots, and cut stones. Also present were old scepters and other such baubles that looked more to be part of someone else’s wealth than one taken from the sunken earth. Less and less was this place looking like a mine, and more and more did it appear to be someone’s treasure trove. Idly Rotor’s mind brought forth memories of stories his mother had told him of sunken treasure and hidden bonanzas. Was that what this place was, a hidden cache of old treasures?

_& But this can’t all just be about some treasure trove,&_ Rotor thought to himself. _& There have to be other sunken treasures more accessible than this one; so why come here where he stood a better chance of getting noticed? Something’s here that Sargasso wants, and if I can find it first, maybe I can convince him to release the herd.&_ Such a search would have to wait though, as Rotor soon felt his lungs begin to burn. He’d been underwater too long; he needed to get air soon. Quickly he turned to Bottlenose.

“Back Bathysphere, info,” he said to the dolphin. The Bathysphere had a direct line to N.I.C.O.L.E. and the little computer could no doubt help him figure out what it was that was being searched for. Quickly he turned from his partner and began to swim back to the entrance of the cave, hoping that his hasty egress would not be noticed by his mesmerized brethren. When no alarms were raised, a giddy sort of happiness came to Rotor’s stomach as he saw the exit approaching, a feeling that had nothing to do with his brain trying to command him to breathe. 

“Did you find your tour of my little home satisfactory?” the same dark voice from before asked as Sargasso descended to block the exit, his bulky frame still flanked by the sharks that guarded him. Immediately the happy feeling in Rotor’s gullet dissipated. “I was a touch concerned that you had lost your way.”

“You knew we were here?” Rotor asked in shock, forgetting to keep his words to a minimum.

“Of course Rotor, you did not think you could enter my territory without my knowledge, did you?” Rotor’s eyes widened as he realized this creature had known his name without ever meeting him. Something was most definitely wrong, and this was confirmed by the lobster’s next words. “Especially when I am the one who sent you the invitation to come.” Sargasso’s claw snapped shut with an audible clack, the signal to attack. Rotor dimly prepared to evade the sharks, only to have the last of his air forced out of his lungs by a driving force from behind that sent him crashing headfirst into the rocky cave wall. As his vision swam, he gazed into the face of his attacker; Bottlenose Dolphin, whose eyes now showed the same blank and emotionless stare Rotor had seen amongst everyone here. As though he could not bear not being the center of attention, Sargasso swam into view, a sly smile on his jagged face. “Sleep tight little Freedom Fighter.” And with those words, darkness engulfed Rotor’s mind.


	2. Chapter 2

As he slowly regained consciousness, a number of observations came to Rotor’s attention. The first, and probably most important, was the fact that, though his fur was still soaking wet from his swim through the Northern Seas, the teenaged walrus was no longer underwater, as evidenced by the fact that he was freely breathing. The second observation was that he was not lying down on slush and snow, but on something hard, metal, if his stomach was any indication, segmented and layered like plate armor or scales. Third was the fact that his bandolier and baseball cap were missing, leaving him bereft of any of the tools that might have been able to help him in this situation. Perhaps most distressing to the walrus was his final observation, that his hands had been tied behind his back with a rather tight rope.

“So much for my big debut as a hero,” the walrus muttered as he began to struggle against his bonds. Whoever had tied him up knew enough about walruses to not let his claws get close to the ropes they could be used to cut, but Rotor had performed more than his share of daring escapes. Grunting in pain, he twisted his wrists into several painful positions as he worked to maneuver his claws to cut the rope. Pain filled his vision as he began to pick at the fibrous material, knowing the unlikelihood of him being able to return to the same spot if he gave himself a break. Finally the ropes fell slack as he worked himself free, a pleasured groan escaping him as his arms were finally able to fall to his sides. Though his strained ligaments and pulled muscles protested, Rotor reached up to his face and pulled off the blindfold that had been obscuring his vision. What he saw as his vision cleared took his breath away.

When they’d been younger, Rosie had told the children under her charge many bedtime stories, amongst them the tale of “Ali-BaaBaa, and the Forty Thieves.” A natural storyteller, Rosie had described the settings of her tales superbly, painting vivid pictures of the areas in the children’s minds. As he stared at the cavern he found himself in, Rotor’s mind was immediately drawn back to those images of the legendary thieves’ Cave of Wonders. Gold coins littered the area, in fact that had been what Rotor’s body had been laying on, and the walrus had the imprints on his chest and belly under his fur to prove it. Jewels large enough to make Rouge the Bat positively salivate rested amongst the gold coins, as did suits of armor that looked barely rusted, if at all, despite their tenure in the salt water of the ocean. Sheathed swords, bejeweled knives, and stunning shields rested along the walls, all illuminated by the torches that had been lit to provide light for the dark underwater cavern. Indeed so much treasure was there that even Rotor, for whom the acquisition of material wealth was no real part of his character, felt tempted to try to fill his pockets with money. 

Had he simply stumbled upon this little alcove, he just might have. Fortunately common sense won out and he remembered he had not come here by choice; he’d been captured and tricked. Walrus eyes began to search the cave for an exit, finding one in the form of a large pool of water that dominated half the cave’s floor. Though Rotor was very sure he could easily swim out through there, there were two potential problems with such a plan, and their dorsal fins were slicing through the surface of the water as they swam in circles around each other.

“More sharks,” the mechanic muttered. “What is this Sargasso guy’s thing with sharks?” Quickly he looked around for something he could use to disable the lethal predators, but there was little that was handy. Though he was fairly certain the swords and other assorted blades would have little trouble slaying his ferocious guards, the captive Freedom Fighter hadn’t the foggiest idea how to use such weapons on land, let alone under the water. It would be far more likely that he would end up accidentally skewering himself and providing the sharks with a quick meal than successfully defeating them. And such a small space meant it was very unlikely he would be able to evade the snapping jaws of both of the predators and escape, even if he was fast enough to beat them through the tunnel to the outside. “Looks like I’m stuck here,” the walrus said dejectedly as he sat down on his haunches and began to absentmindedly play with the coins at his feet. Bored, Rotor began to throw the coins, skipping them across the surface of the water to clang against the far wall before sinking into the crystal depths below. Each time he did so one of the sharks would stop its aquatic pacing and turn its body in the direction of the sound, even going so far as to investigate the fallen coin. If two coins made it to the other side of the water in fairly quick succession, both sharks investigated. As he watched this behavior, Rotor realized that, though still quite fast, the sharks were reacting to the potential threats the coins represented much slower than they should have.

An idea began to form. 

Slowly the walrus began to inch his way closer to the water’s edge, his natural instincts screaming for him not to do something so foolish. Once more he threw more of the coins into the water, as far away from the exit as he could manage. Set to keep him in the cave, the sharks did nothing to attack him, even as he slid half of his pudgy body in the water and crouched down on his heels. More coins went skipping as he continued to gauge where the best place to throw from was, the place that ensured both coins would summon the sharks at exactly the same time. 

Rotor did not consider himself a brave Mobian. Compared to Sonic, Sally, and Bunnie, he often thought himself to be more on the timid side of life. That he rarely went out on missions to Megaopolis was proof enough of that, at least to him. And had anyone told him yesterday what he was about to do, he would have laughed in their faces and told them they were looking for the wrong Freedom Fighter. As he stared at the two sharks, once more swimming their ordained patrols, all he could think about was how much his herd needed his help. Muscles tensed as he gave a mighty throw to the two remaining coins in his hands, sending both sailing off in different directions to crash against the walls in a near simultaneous clank. Even as both of the ferocious sea predators turned from their posts, Rotor dove into the water, his flipper feet kicking behind him as he did so. Though ungainly and slow on land, water was ever the walrus’s natural element and as he sped towards the open hole that promised freedom, he prayed that some of Sonic’s speed had rubbed off on him.

He’d just barely made it to the tunnel’s entrance when the loud swishing of water indicated that the sharks were no longer interested in the shiny coins. Desperation caused the humanoid walrus to move faster, trying to make it to the open sea where he could hopefully evade pursuit. This was made harder as the light from the cavern did not extend into the tunnel, meaning he was swimming blind. Suddenly a new light came on ahead of him, but this was no new torch that was showing him the way, but an electric jellyfish similar to P.B. Jellyfish. Electric energy shot forth from its stingers and Rotor was only narrowly able to evade, hoping that the paralyzing shock might have actually hit one of his pursuers. A grunt of pain exited his mouth as he passed the nasty little creature however, and he felt the slimy tentacles wrap around his ankle. Soon more of the little monsters appeared, mimicking their brother and attaching to the fleeing Rotor’s body, slowing his pace. 

Rotor’s skin came alive with pain as each of the jellyfish shocked him again and again, causing his muscles to spasm uncontrollably. Soon the hapless walrus found himself careening and bouncing off the tunnel’s walls before he finally came to a stop. Behind him the pursuing sharks continued their charge, surging forward with their mouths open in attack. As one of the massive toothed holes came towards him, the now helpless Rotor closed his eyes and prepared for the pain of the jagged bite. It never came. For a few precious seconds, the young Freedom Fighter thought the strike had been quick and clean and had killed him with no pain. When he opened his eyes however, he was treated to a most startling sight. The lead shark, its gaping mouth wide open and all of it sharp dagger-like teeth displayed horrifically, had stopped in mid-strike, as though frozen in position. The sound of clicking came to Rotor’s ears and he looked behind him to see Sargasso himself treading water, a look of utter amusement that would have done Ixis Naugus or Robotnik proud on his face. Numbly Rotor stood before the lobster, his body barely able to do so as he thought over his next move. 

This decision was taken out of his hands, however, as Sargasso pointed one of his huge claws at the walrus’s chest. On command a jet-stream of water slammed into Tusker’s chest and drove him backwards into the cave. Within seconds he broke the surface of the same pool of water he had so recently dived into, the jet of water tossing him effortlessly into the air. The ride was not over though, as the water altered its, and Rotor’s, course, slamming the walrus roughly against the back wall. As the water covered his body, it suddenly turned to ice around his wrists and ankles, pinning him spread-eagle against the wall and helpless. His body screaming with pain, all Rotor could do was gulp in the air that came readily to his lungs. As he recovered, Rotor noticed a line of bubbles approaching the shores of the pool of water, bubbles that heralded the arrival of Sargasso. The walrus’s eyes widened as he watched a pair of thick legs unfold themselves from the lobster’s massive tail, allowing him to move about on land. Despite this, it was fairly apparent Sargasso’s cumbersomely heavy body was not suited for dry land as he reached out for a walking stick to support his frame. For the briefest of moments, Rotor felt a pang of sympathy for his fellow creature of the sea. Hadn’t he had trouble adjusting to dry land when his father had moved his elder brother and he to Mobotropolis to continue their schooling?

Such sympathy vanished like steam as he noticed the two other figures walking out of the water, those of his younger brother and mother, both of whom stared straight ahead blankly, not an independent thought in their heads. Rotor’s considerable gut told him no good could come of this.

“I suppose I should offer my humblest apologies,” the lobster began, his gravely, clicking voice resonating through the caverns and a smile on his mandibles, “it is terribly bad manners for a host to leave his guest unattended for so long, but I honestly did not think you would be up and about so soon.”

“Waking up bound and blindfolded is not my idea of good form either,” Rotor retorted, a retort that did nothing to break the smile on the Sargasso’s craggy face. At this vantage Rotor realized that what he’d taken as a particularly spiky section of the crustacean’s head from a distance was in fact not even a part of his head. It was a crown, a crown made of what appeared to be coral. With a heavy, thudding gait, Sargasso moved closer to his tusked prisoner, his massive claws swaying like pendulums as his small secondary arms rubbed together in what Rotor might have thought to be excitement.

“Again I must apologize, I had to make sure you did not attempt to leave my domicile before I had a chance to talk to you,” he explained, before casting a suspicious look around at the piles of treasure and at the pool. “Though, had I known what you would do in my absence, I might not have left you at all.” Slowly the giant lobster turned towards young Skeeter and, with great effort, pointed a massive claw at the calf. “You, go and collect the coins that are scattered and do not return till you have them all.” Obediently Skeeter turned on his heels and shuffled off to fulfill Sargasso’s command, walking straight towards the water the two giant sharks once more swam menacingly in.

“NO!” Rotor cried, visions of his youngest sibling being torn to shreds by the predators dancing through his head. “Please, he… he’s just a calf, don’t do it…” At the walrus’s words, his “host” turned back to Rotor, a smile still on crustacean face.

“What? Afraid my pets will have him for dinner?” he asked congenially. “Not to worry,” he continued, taping the crown on his head, “my servants are always on the best of terms, unless I say otherwise. Your brother is perfectly safe, so long as he finds all my coins before his breath runs out.” Rotor favored the sorcerer with an icy look at this comment. “Now then, I’m sure you’re wondering why I went to so much trouble to arrange to meet with you.”

“What arrange? Bottlenose brought me here to stop you,” the walrus responded. Sargasso’s servile smile turned to a knowing smirk. Understanding dawned on Rotor’s face. “He wasn’t able to escape when the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters came here the first time, was he?

“The part about diving into an underground tunnel was true enough, the problem was that it eventually led him right here where I was waiting,” Sargasso acknowledged. “After that, it was child’s play to send him straight to your base to collect you.”

“Why? Don’t have enough walruses working in your mine?” Rotor asked. He’d intended the question to sound snotty and impertinent; in short like it had come from Sonic’s lips rather than his own. Unfortunately as he watched his brother moving sluggishly through the water, every second getting closer and closer to drowning himself as he searched for meaningless coins, he couldn’t help but let his fear creep into his voice. It was this fear that Sargasso picked up on.

“Oh heavens no,” he stated happily. “Your herd has been most helpful in my digging; despite their notable flaw of needing to breathe air.” So saying the aquatic wizard turned from his captive and walked over to the she-walrus that stood behind him, Rotor’s own mother, looking at her with a feigned expression of fondness. “I was quite lucky to find them, yes I was. The Coral Crown may allow me to control all sea life, but the more willpower a subject has, the most difficult they are to put under. Try to control a whole colony of willful walruses? It gives me a headache simply to think about.”

“But then I found this marvelous herd of yours,” he continued. “Imagine, over fifty walruses all waiting patiently for a master to care for them and give them purpose.”

“They weren’t waiting for a master, they were brainwashed,” Rotor pointed out, his eyes narrowing as he watched Sargasso’s unwelcome attentions towards the female walrus. Behind them both he watched as Skeeter emerged from the water, his arms laden with the gold coins he’d been ordered to collect. A breath of relief escaped the elder walrus’s lips. 

“Different words, same meaning,” Sargasso flippantly responded, turning back to Skeeter. “Dump those in a pile amongst the gold.”

“So you kidnapped my family and friends to dig up some stupid treasure? I thought you wizards were beyond simple greed,” Rotor stated, growing tired of this display of his own helplessness.

“You are quite correct. That I happened to locate a massive amount of wealth is actually incidental to my ultimate plans, welcome though it may be.” The lobster returned to Rotor, his massive claw caressing the mammal’s whiskered face betwixt its two pincers. “Hence why I had you brought to me to offer up your assistance, dear boy.”

“Why, what makes me so special?” Rotor asked in earnest. “I’ve barely been here in the past ten years; what can I do for you that they couldn’t.” A chuckling sound issued forth from the lobster as his claw released Rotor’s face, clicking as it came to wizard’s side. Like magic, which in fact it was, the icy bonds that had held Rotor so helplessly to the wall became liquid again before they returned to the pool, releasing the walrus, though he felt a sort of salty crust at his wrists, ankles, and waist. Sargasso made no move to block the only exit Rotor could take, but the walrus was no fool. The lobster had completed his demonstration of power over the young Freedom Fighter’s family and, so long as Skeeter and his mother could be made to obediently walk into the jaws of death, Rotor was just as much in Sargasso’s grip as they were. 

“Sad to say, but I’m afraid my contact with your herd was a preordained event, Mr. Tusker,” Sargasso explained, putting special emphasis on the walrus’s last name, the name given to all the walruses of his herd. Though he was related to only a few by blood, in this icy, unforgiving land, a large communal family was the best protection against the elements one could have. “Though Robotnik’s meddling did provide me with a ready made and quite competent workforce, I’m afraid it also cost me easy access to the true prize I seek. I had thought I might be able to use them anyway but… my assumptions proved incorrect. And then I learned about you…” Rotor looked at the lobster quizzically; still unsure what was so special about himself as to risk drawing the full attention of the Freedom Fighters upon this dig. “The last member of the Tusker colony who’s mind remains completely unfettered by outside forces. A most valuable commodity where I am concerned.”

“Commodity?”

“You are, I hope, familiar with the history of your colony, and its founder, the Pirate Lord Tusker?” Rotor blinked at this. There wasn’t a walrus in the herd who had not memorized the story of the walrus pirate whose name they now all bore. The original Tusker had indeed been a pirate rogue and, though his victims were often said to grouse about him cutting into their fortunes with his activities, a defining trait setting the sea captain apart from other privateers was the fact that his victims often GOT the opportunity to grouse at all. Though not hesitant to defend himself, Captain Tusker was not interested in taking lives if he could help it, and often his ship was a more welcome sight than most other pirates. He stalked the northern seas for years, preying on merchant vessels that tried to cut time by navigating the shifting icebergs found there, becoming a fairly well known and rich Mobian as he did so. But his real claim to fame came as the then fledgling Kingdom of Acorn was forced to defend its new borders from the encroaching threat of Mercia and the spiteful acts of the Overlanders. 

Captain Tusker was quick to take advantage of the situation, though the way he did came as a surprise to most everyone. Rather than use the chaos the war created to indiscriminately pillage every ship he came across, the tusked pirate became more selective, striking only at ships bearing the Mercian or Overlander standard. A natural at naval warfare, Tusker was single-handedly able to halt all shipping by Mercia and the Overlanders through the Northern Passes, and even able to disrupt their shipping further south with the help of some of his allies. Since he was helping their Kingdom, the privateer found himself quite able to hide within the port towns controlled by Acorn, and even occasionally shielded by her fleet. Once Acorn’s inevitable victory occurred, the current King had been very quick to annex the Northern Territories, whereupon he demanded that the notorious pirate Captain Tusker turn himself in at the Port of Acorn. Very aware he could be put to death, the brave walrus had played out his gamble, sailing his ship and his colors boldly into the Kingdom’s port, the naval warships present escorting him without incident. Before the King himself, Tusker was given an official royal pardon for all his past crimes in thanks for the aid he’d rendered, as well as title to the lands of the Northern Territories, officially recognizing the walrus herds as the rightful inhabitants of that icy land and under the protection of Acorn. 

Thus had Captain Tusker returned to his home a hero to his people, now legally wealthy and safe as a royal naval base was quickly established to protect this distant outpost. The herd had taken the Captain’s name for its own and he’d been given a position in the Royal Navy, one he’d held until his death at the hands of the evil Pirate Lord Zachary Prower at the Battle of Port Acorn. As he remembered this tale, Rotor found himself recounting it for his lobster captor, watching as Sargasso nodded his head in quiet approval. 

“Greatly does it gladden my heart that the young are indeed kept knowledgeable about their own past. I had feared such knowledge lost with the rise of Robotnik,” Sargasso stated as he began to pace back and forth, his hard exoskeleton clinking on the golden coins at his feet. “Zachary killed Tusker during his ill-fated attempt to escape the King, but for his valor in combat, the King offered to inter the walrus in a military grave.”

“The herd declined, wanting their hero back in the northern seas. They opted to entomb him within the hiding place of the vast treasure he had acquired for them, along with his rightful share…” Again Rotor’s eyes widened.

“The cave you’re having the walruses dig up… It’s Tusker’s burial tomb.” Sargasso laughed at Rotor’s revelation.

“Quite right!” he chuckled, sweeping one of his small secondary arms over the assembled gold and jewels. “This is merely a fraction of the wealth your herd once held. A horde large enough to make even an echidna turn green with envy.”

“Once?”

“Time has a way of changing priorities. With Acorn’s rise to power, the entire Kingdom became wealthy and cared for. So much so that the treasure that was your birthright became forgotten, a quaint legend of a bygone age, save to a few.” It was true. Once the treasure had become superfluous, its exact location had been largely forgotten by the herd, known only to a few of the older members who had seen it in their own childhoods.

“That still leads me back to my original question. If it isn’t the treasure you’re looking for, what is it?”

“A part of the treasure, one that entreats another story I’m afraid, though I shall attempt to be brief. Unfortunately, my lips are parched and I need drink.” The bulky wizard painfully bent his body over to retrieve a bejeweled goblet from a small pile of gold, turning to Mrs. Tusker afterwards. “My dear, I am in need of drink. Would you be so kind as to fill me up a cup of the sea?” Again Rotor watched in impotent anger as the combined effects of Sargasso’s crown and Robotnik’s brainwashing forced his mother to comply with the wishes of her captor.

_& The crown is the key to his power over them. If I can get it away from Sargasso, that will break his hold over all his minions,&_ the tusked one thought. Even as he made this observation he could fully realize how Sonic would have acted immediately on such information, seizing the moment to weaken the foe who had tricked him. Unfortunately, now was not an opportune time for such brash action. Though the crown’s removal would indeed remove Sargasso’s influence and return the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters to Rotor’s side, he had no idea where they were, or even if they would be free enough to act once their control was gone. Then there was the fact that everything else was simply a feral animal that would no doubt simply act on instinct once freed. And that meant Rotor would become trapped in this cave with Sargasso and his still catatonic family, as well as two fully awake and hungry mako sharks. And Rotor got the distinct impression Sargasso’s jovial and “friendly” mood would dissipate at such a violation of his person. And so did the Freedom Fighter opt to wait for his moment. 

Sargasso noisily slurped down the drink given to him by Rotor’s mother, patting the female on the cheek in mock-affection once he was done.

“Thank you my dear, whatever would I do without you?”

“That’s enough Sargasso, you’ve made your point, you have her under your control,” Rotor said defiantly, receiving a look of utter satisfaction from the lobster at his outburst.

“I knew you were a smart boy, Rotor,” he smugly called. “Now, back to the story of Tusker’s Treasure and why it’s become so important to me. As a friend of someone like Knuckles, I’m sure you are aware of the echidna city of Echidnopolis.”

“As much as any of us are; they’re not exactly open about themselves.”

“No they never are. So I’m betting you are not aware of the other echidna cities that have existed, such as mighty Albion.” The look on Rotor’s face told the lobster that this was indeed new information for him. “Heh heh, I see. Well, from this city of Albion arose a group known as the Albion Knights of Aurora, echidna warriors who felt it their ‘sacred’ duty to end the age of magic and bring the world out of the so called ‘dark ages.’ Their crusade, of course, brought them into conflict with the most powerful wizardly conclave of the time, the Order of Ixis.”

“Naugus…”

“Yes. That wizard happens to be the very latest in the long line of high wizards for the Order, though it has shrunk considerably since its heyday. Sadly, though they were backwards brutes themselves, the Knights proved strong enough to best the Order of Ixis, destroying most of its wizardly members until only three of their number remained, amongst them my own ancestor, the Wizard of Water, Suguna. Needless to say, Albion’s defeat of the Order left them in possession of all the wizards’ former possessions. Amongst them was Suguna’s most powerful artifact; the Tidal Stone.”

“Tidal Stone?”

“Legend has it that it was a sea green stone carved by Suguna’s claw from the deepest, darkest, most unfathomable depths of the ocean. With it, he held absolute mastery over all the waters of the world. Without it, he was forced to make his ill-fated deal with the Wizards of Earth and Air, Agunus the Rhino and Nusgau the Bat in their attempt to control the element of fire.”

“You have my sympathy but when did we go from pirates to wizards?”

“I’m getting to that. You see at about the time Tusker was just beginning to make his reputation, the hidden city of Albion decided it could no longer risk having outposts in the world that might expose its existence to what the echidnas termed ‘less evolved’ beings. Albion called her wayward children home, dear boy, a process that took a full year as treasures horded by the echidna were shipped to their mighty city. One such transport was an echidna frigate that carried with it Suguna’s plundered Tidal Stone. Arrogant pride has ever been a flaw of the echidnas, the firm belief that there is nothing in their world that can outmatch them and no adversary they cannot overcome. So it should come as little surprise that the captain of this particular frigate chose to cut his time…”

“…by taking the Northern Waterways.”

“Where Tusker was quite prepared to teach them the folly of their beliefs. His ship slid out from under the ice, his marine mammal crew boarded with ease, and he captured the frigate and its treasure.”

“Not possible,” Rotor interrupted. He’d seen Knuckles in action. Arrogance may have been a flaw of the ancient echidnas, but Rotor knew full well the limitations of his own species. A crew of pirates, even outnumbering them three to one, would be no match for a crew of echidna warriors. This he knew and he related to his “host.” Sargasso smiled a nasty smile, the smile of one who knows himself superior to his opponent.

“Such a low opinion you hold of your own people and in their own element as well. One can only wonder where such low esteem comes from,” consoled the evil sea sorcerer. “The echidnas are indeed masters of terrestrial combat; none finer in the entire world you could say. And they make for formidable aerial opponents as well, losing out only to natural fliers in ability. But…” At this Sargasso leaned in close to Rotor’s face. “They have NEVER been a nautically gifted people.” Rotor’s eyes widened at this observation. True he had never seen the red-spined Mobians on the water, but surely with their advanced technology, their great ingenuity, nautical combat was something they had mastered. “Echidna ships are just like them, blunt and forceful. They cannot move swiftly through the waves, they cannot maneuver across the tides. They’re like floating walls fighting against all that comes before them. And, as you yourself no doubt know, fighting tactics that work on the waves do not work on dry land. The reverse of this rule is also true.”

“Caught by surprise, and on a field their opponents held all advantages on, the echidnas were quickly subdued. And thus did Captain Tusker gain the Tidal Stone amongst his gold and jewels, and it is this stone that I now seek to possess.” Giant claws clicked as the lobster finished his explanation, anticipation of acquiring his prize evident in his face. 

“So what do you need me for?” Rotor again asked, breaking the wizard out of his revelry. “You know the stone is in the cave, why not just keep searching for it.”

“Not only do I know it is in the cave, I know its exact location. It is in the burial chamber of Captain Tusker himself, a part of his share of your herd’s treasure, left with him in tribute for all the old walrus had done in life. An act of adoration enacted by all who held him dear.”

“And?” It was at this point that Sargasso’s face lost its smiling countenance, twisting in a frustrated, angry scowl.

“And only the blood of Tusker may freely enter that chamber to reclaim it,” he hissed, his malicious, yellow eyes gazing up and down young Rotor’s form. The walrus took an involuntary step back, an unbidden fear welling in his gut. “Magic is tricky, be it Chaos, Ixian or,” the lobster shuddered, “Void. The wishes uttered by your herd that day were held by the sea itself, and the very waters from which my powers derive prevent anyone from entering and claiming what should be rightfully MINE! Only a proper descendant of Captain Tusker’s may enter, as so called forth by the herds themselves.” At this Rotor gave a short laugh.

“Then you’re out of luck. It’s been so long, even we don’t know who has a direct line back to Tusker,” he said.

“You may not dear boy, but I do,” Sargasso said as his claws began to move in an arcane fashion. A murmuring came from the lobster, a language Rotor knew not, but one that did not sound all that friendly. Before the Freedom Fighter’s eyes a white glow began to surround the still form of young Skeeter, dull at first but gradually getting brighter by the moment. With a startled look to his own purple fur, Rotor noticed that he too was glowing, a fact that seemed to fill Sargasso with much self-justified mirth. “A pleasure to meet you, oh child of Captain Horatio Tusker.”

As the legend of their founder was taught to all the children of the herd, so too did a secret wish get passed to those same calves; the wish, the hope, that somewhere in their personal family trees, a branch held the noble visage of the great pirate. Though never openly talked about, most believed such a relation would be a point of great pride, to be able to know one’s family history was so intrinsically bound with the survival of the Kingdom of Acorn. Even Rotor, in his younger days before moving to Mobotropolis, had held this faint hope out as he romped and played with his friends in games of pirates and sailing. Of course, as he’d aged, the young engineer had discovered different passions, preferring to design and build ships over sailing them. But now, to discover that his childish hopes had not been false, to learn that his wish had been true…

Unbidden to his mind came the old fantasies, images of himself standing at the wheel of a great ship of old, a captain’s hat sitting over his familiar yellow baseball cap, a sword sheathed at his side, and the endless sea at his call. Such dreams may have been buried with the loss of childhood, but they had never been ridded of completely. 

The loud snapping of Sargasso’s claws right in front of his face, so close his whiskers could feel the hard shell of the lobster’s exoskeleton, brought Rotor back to his senses.

“Awe inspiring, isn’t it? To learn you possess the blood of true greatness in your veins,” the wizard spoke. “And it is that blood that will allow you to pass unmolested into the chamber your forefather currently resides.” Sargasso pointed at Skeeter. “Though he too is a descendant, I’m afraid that without his mind present and only mine to guide him, he is not capable of the same feat.”

“Why?” Rotor asked quietly, steeling himself up as he prepared to confront his captor.

“Excuse me?”

“Why should I help you?” Rotor clarified. “If I enter Tusker’s chamber, you get the Tidal Stone, but what do I get for my help?” To all the world, it sounded as though the walrus was willing, if only Sargasso could guess at his “secret” price. For his part, Sargasso smiled knowingly at his “guest,” already guessing what was the hoped for cost for the walrus’s compliance. Still there was ever that part of the wizard that sought mastery over his acquaintances, not to mention their adoration.

“One would think, dear boy, that, rather than pose the question of what you might gain in helping me, you would be more curious to know what it is you would lose in defiance,” the lobster replied as his claw waved past Skeeter and Mrs. Tusker. “I would so hate for my control over my pets to slip just as your family happened to be standing near.” A magnanimous look came to the crustacean’s face as he made a show of his benevolence. “But, perhaps you are right. Such favors do deserve a just reward.” At his words, the Coral Crown suddenly flashed. For a few seconds it seemed as though nothing had happened. And then Skeeter’s eyes suddenly blinked and began to focus.

“What… What happened?” the calf asked in a daze as he looked around at the cave he found himself in. His last memories had been of gazing into Robotnik’s hypnotizing device and feeling it as his mind slowly ebbed away from him, and now he was in a strange cave surrounded by gold and standing next to a frightening lobster.

“Skeeter!” Rotor cried as he rushed forward as best he could to hug his younger brother.

“Rotor?” Skeeter asked, mystified at this sudden appearance. “What… What happened? How did we… did we…” As the young walrus tried to complete his questions, his eyes began to glaze over once again as he fell back into his catatonic state.

“No!” Rotor cried, shaking his brother furiously as he tried to stop the trance from once more taking hold.

“Sadly, even my powers are insufficient to break the control that wretched Overlander has placed on your herd. But, were I backed by the Tidal Stone…” Rotor released his brother, standing once again.

“If I get you this Tidal Stone, you can release my brother and my herd from Robotnik’s controls? Forever?”

“With a simple wave of my claw,” Sargasso assured. Rotor looked into the yellow eyes of the Mobian who would be his benefactor, if only for the cost of one simple stone. His decision was a simple one to make.

“Take me to the chamber, and I’ll get it for you.”


	3. Chapter 3

As he moved underwater through the ocean, Rotor couldn’t help but feel Sargasso’s method for aquatic locomotion to be quite superior to conventional ones. Ever the master of water, rather then expend muscular energy physically sending his body through his element, the lobster sorcerer utilized his powers to propel himself instead with minimal effort. As the out of shape walrus struggled to keep up, he couldn’t help but wonder just why Sargasso wasn’t willing to extend this courtesy to him.

It was a strange procession they made; a lobster, a walrus, and two very big mako sharks all moving together as though friends. As the two sharks moved in a circle around his body, going above him, to his right, below, and to his left, Rotor couldn’t help but vulnerably know that was not the case. As far as the sea wizard was concerned, the young walrus was simply a tool he could use to get what he wanted.

_& Which is all right by me, because I feel the same way about you,&_ Rotor determinedly thought as they moved over the ocean floor to the mine he now knew to be the burial site of his distant ancestor, Captain Tusker the Pirate. Though he was loathe to think about the unparalleled act of desecration he was being asked to commit, as he spotted the tip of Sargasso’s crown bobbing along with his head as he moved, Rotor could only steel his resolve. _& If Tusker was as noble-minded as his legends say, surely he can understand why his descendant would need to get into his tomb.&_ Inwardly the walrus wished his reasoning made him feel better.

Soon they arrived at the entrance of the caves, the mesmerized walruses Sargasso had procured to excavate them still moving in and out in robotic fashion, hauling rocks and debris as they searched tirelessly for every speck of the treasure. Every so often one of the workers stopped and stood still, opening their mouth wide as a funnel of air was pulled down from the surface to sustain each of the enslaved Mobians. That this fairly haphazard system could easily result in an accidental death mattered not to their multi-limbed master. Rotor’s eyes cast about to the helpless herd as he and his lobster guide entered the mine.

“I shall take you as far as I can go, Rotor,” Sargasso spoke as his helper nodded in silent reply. “After that you are on your own to find the Tidal Stone. It is the size of your fist, egg shaped, and the color of sea green. Its pulsing magic should be readily apparent, even to a neophyte such as you. Simply put that stone in my claws, and your herd will be as good as freed.”

“And when you have the stone, what will you do with it?” Rotor finally asked, a tone in his voice that the lobster had little trouble identifying. Sargasso looked distastefully into Rotor’s eyes, clearly expecting this question. The walrus had been a Freedom Fighter for more than a decade, dedicating his life to saving the world as best he could. Only a fool would expect something as trifling as holding the boy’s family hostage would make him forget that dedication, and Sargasso was no one’s fool.

It would have been easy enough to lie to Rotor. Make up some placation about the Tidal Stone being his by birthright or saying that he sought power in these troubled times for power’s own sake. The wizard had inherited his ancestor’s talent for subterfuge and was quite convinced that whatever story he told he could convince his newest minion of with ease. Indeed had Rotor required an additional but gentler touch to get him to cooperate, Sargasso had been quite prepared to spin such a fable. As the lobster looked into the eyes of his companion, however, and looked into the very heart and soul of the walrus, he discarded this plan.

Rotor’s eyes betrayed him. Though a Freedom Fighter, he had not become so of his own volition. Though he helped his friends, it was only to belong. Underneath all his so-called morals and nobility lurked a walrus that simply wanted to build machines and let life pass him by. A walrus who understood that he did not have to care, only that he’d been made to. With that observation, there was little harm in Sargasso telling the young fool the truth, even if only partially.

“With the Tidal Stone, my powers will increase one-thousandfold, enough so that I may control all of the waters of the world, from ANYWHERE in the world,” Sargasso revealed. “From the sea did all life come, and it **never should have left.”**

“You’re planning to drown the world,” Rotor realized.

“Only that insignificant part of it that cannot adapt to my designs,” the lobster stated matter-of-factly, as though he were a teacher explaining the most trivial of things to the dullest of students. “You should feel proud Tusker, you shall have a part in my scouring the world of Robotnik’s foul infestation… as well as of those who dared allow him to gain his foothold on our world.” Once more they continued on in silence through the maze of tunnels. Finally Sargasso stopped, calling a halt to the progression. “This is as far as the tide will permit me,” he explained. To confirm this, the lobster poked a claw forward and was stopped as the water picked up an electric quality, bouncing his limb backwards. “Beyond lies the resting place of Captain Tusker himself, a place his descendant should have no trouble accessing.”

“And if you’re wrong and I do?” Rotor asked.

“Then I shall be forced to find another way in,” Sargasso said, placing a claw on the walrus’s back. “And you have my word you shall have a fitting burial at sea.” Before Rotor could stop him, Sargasso’s claw pushed forward, roughly shoving the walrus towards the barrier that had prevented the wizard from proceeding earlier. When Rotor had been younger and had just moved to Mobotropolis, his elder brother, taking advantage of the peculiar trust that a younger sibling invests in the older, had convinced Rotor to place the contacts of a nine volt battery upon his tongue. Needless to say, the initial tingling sensation had caused the young calf discomfort as he’d foolishly complied, much to his big brother’s delight. When he’d tried it again though, it had ceased being such a shock as he began to get used to it.

As Rotor’s body was shoved through the seemingly invisible barrier, such a feeling came back to him. At first his skin was alive with a prickling sensation not unlike goosebumps, but as the seconds had slowly ticked away, the feeling became less and less noticeable. Oddly though, it was not as though he was getting used to the water, but like it was getting used to him.

Opening his eyes, Tusker looked back with an annoyed look on his face at the smiling Sargasso who beckoned him forward. Grumbling in his mind, Rotor once more turned and started to swim away.

The tunnel he now found himself in wasn’t particularly long, at least not from Rotor’s estimates. It turned sharply in some areas but, as he made a slow progression, necessitated by the lights from Sargasso’s operations not reaching as far down as it should, he guessed it to be no more than forty yards; forty-five at the most. The oddest thing was that the last length took a sharp turn upwards, towards the surface. Casting a cautious glance backwards at the darkened path he’d taken, Rotor began his ascent, guided by a very dull, very dim, but still seeable light that was shining down on him. A few bubbles of spent air escaped his lips, rising quickly past him and up to what the walrus could just make out to be a surface.

_& An air pocket? Down here?&_ he thought to himself. Slowly he rose, his feet kicking underneath him as he managed to break the surface of the water with his head. As he looked around from the hole that formed this air pocket’s sole exit, his eyes widened as he realized he was dimly looking at solid ground. Air, ancient and stale, but still breathable, filled his lungs as his clawed hands gripped the edge of the pool and he struggled to pull himself up on this oddly placed, dry land. A few rough shakes and he was mostly dry, the thickness of his coat and the oils of his skin preventing the frigid water from chilling his flesh. Before they had started off, Sargasso had been kind enough to return the Freedom Fighter’s baseball cap and bandolier, reasoning that it made little sense to deny Rotor any of his tools that might prove useful on his mission. It was to one of the water-proofed pockets of his bandolier that his clawed hand went, withdrawing a small penlight he hoped he’d remembered to charge recently. Relief flooded his mind as glorious light shot forth from the small device, providing more illumination to the dully lit cave. 

It was warm inside, an odd feeling given how cold he’d been since he’d first arrived in this frozen land. It wasn’t entirely unknown to him of course; the igloos the herd used for housing were plenty warm, especially since they often housed the warm bodied walrus’s. It was while likening the place to the igloos of his childhood that Rotor also made another interesting observation. The sides of the caves sparkled and shone, as though they were made of crystal or… 

“Ice!” Indeed as Rotor used his shuffling, waddling gait to move his cumbersome body over to the wall and feel, it was indeed ice, very, very old ice. His head swerved about, examining all the walls. Though a natural stone and rock formation form the sea was indeed present, no doubt a part of the system of caves Sargasso was currently in; the majority of the walls were made of an almost opaque ice. “It’s a giant igloo,” Rotor said, though he knew this was a crude comparison at best. Carefully his mind worked its way backward through the paths he’d taken to get him here in relation to everything else. His normally droopy eyes widened as he recognized this to be the large hill that overlooked the village his herd had lived in before their abduction by Robotnik. He himself had practiced sledding done this place’s very sides, and all the while it had been the tomb of the herd’s great founder Captain Tusker. For a few brief moments, Rotor felt somewhat embarrassed. 

Deciding he’d had enough of theorizing, the teenaged walrus began his search for the Tidal Stone, going deeper into the cave and further away from the hole that was the only exit he knew. The feeble light of the penlight proved less than adequate for seeing far, able to only show him a foot or so of the path ahead of him. Thus it was no surprise when, without warning, something tripped him up. Falling flat on his face, Rotor gave a loud grunt, a grunt that was only obfuscated by the sound of metal rattling against metal. The penlight had fortunately not fallen too far away from him and its beam now shone on the metallic surfaces of several gold coins that had been scattered along the floor when a certain intruder had tripped over their chest. Jewels too swam amongst the gold, just like in Sargasso’s plundered storehouse, representing that fraction of the treasure that had belonged exclusively to Tusker himself. 

Fascinated by the glittering treasure, Rotor carelessly reached out to take hold of his penlight again, only to have his claws clasp something else that was also long, hard, and smooth. As his fingers relayed the information to his brain, a gulp escaped his throat as he realized exactly what this object felt like. His body shaking, his head turned to cast a glance at the small bone his hand was now wrapped around… and the four others sitting beside it. Snatching his flashlight, the walrus twisted around and scooted away as fast as he could. Once he’d judged himself far enough away, the young mechanic fought back the queasy feeling in his ample stomach and pointed the light right where he’d been. 

A pair of skeletal feet framed the area his head had laid previously, and they were connected to the rest of a skeleton that bore an unsettling resemblance to a walrus sitting in a massive chair. The corpse was clad in a black coat that came down to its hips, where a belt that had once been tight when there had been muscle and skin present now hung limply, a cutlass sword tucked into it and sitting on the skeleton’s skull was a broad brimmed hat decorated with dusty and old penguin feathers. The bones, deprived of the sun that would have bleached them white, had grown yellow; almost matching the mountains of wealth that pirate lord had amassed for his people. To his credit, even in death, Captain Tusker sat straight backed and regal in his chair his arms resting on the armrests as they held what looked like a long wooden box in his hands. His jaw was not open, but tightly closed, framed by his two massive tusks, one of which had been broken in half during his life and remained so in death. He looked every bit the intimidating pirate who had roamed the Northern Seas so many centuries ago. 

Once he’d gotten over his initial reaction to his ancestor’s current state of decay, Rotor approached. Having been raised on tales of the walrus’s bravery and heroism, and now standing in the bygone presence of the Mobian himself, it seemed downright disrespectful to be here, disturbing a tomb that had been hidden for so long. He only had to picture Skeeter in his mind though, forced to work in that underwater mine, risking his life simply to fill that retched lobster’s coffers, to justify his actions. Solemnly he walked up to the much larger Mobian’s corpse, his hat in his hand as he did so.

“I… I don’t mean any disrespect… And everything you did was supposed to be to help our herd. So… So please don’t take what I have to do here the wrong way,” he finally said. Rotor did not know if there was an afterlife. The echidnas heartily believed in such a place where their ancestors kept watch and judged their actions. Tails had told his walrus friend once that the echidna called Athair routinely contacted him from the great beyond. If such a place existed, Rotor hoped to the bottom of his heart that Tusker understood. Slowly the younger walrus began to check the area around the throne, his light shining into every pile and box he could as he looked for a stone matching Sargasso’s description of the Tidal Stone. Lockets and rings and other such things cropped up aplenty, some looking very pricy, others, particularly the locket containing a picture of a buxom young female, seemed of a more sentimental nature. Books, treated with oil to prevent their ink from running, also rested near the Captain’s feet. Sadly though, no Tidal stone was present. Having exhausted every avenue for the stone’s placement at the former pirate’s feet, Rotor turned now to the long skinny box Tusker clung to in death. Trying very hard not to think about how gross it was to be so near a dead Mobian, Rotor gently removed the box from the skeletal hands. Inside the waterproofed box he found, not the egg-shaped stone, but a rolled up piece of dry and brittle paper. Curiosity overcame distaste as Rotor gently lifted the delicate scroll, brittle now with age, and unrolled it. Once more his eyes widened as he stared at what was written on the paper.

Design specifications for a ship. Not just any ship, however, as the walrus mechanic quickly realized. What he held in his hands was nothing less than the actual original blueprints for Captain Tusker’s own submersible ship; the Tuskernini. Idly Rotor couldn’t help but wonder why such a valuable document had not been in a museum somewhere or at least at an engineering school. The Tuskernini had been one of the earliest precursors to the submarine, a marvel of nautical engineering for its time, and its blueprints would have held a certain aesthetic value for those interested in the history of ship design. Bitterly Rotor realized that it was only because the blueprints were here and NOT in a museum that they had survived when Robotnik, for whom aesthetic was just another word for worthless, had destroyed all of Mobotropolis’s museums. Indeed, even now the Tusker had no way of being sure they’d be safe if the blueprints left this cave. Though filled with elation that he had gotten to share in this engineering treasure, it was with great sadness that Rotor gently rolled the paper back up and sealed its box again, replacing this in the skeletal arms of Captain Tusker. 

His brief touch with ancient history dealt with, Rotor returned to the problem at hand; finding Sargasso’s Tidal Stone. As far as he knew, he’d searched everywhere the stone could be and it was not present. Was it possible that Sargasso had been wrong? Had the Tidal Stone not been included as part of Tusker’s share of the herd’s treasure? A shiver of fear went up Rotor’s spine. Sargasso would not be understanding if Rotor returned without his stone, and those mako sharks would most likely be supping on his entire family as a result. Removing his cap, the agitated mammal scratched his head in perplexity as he stared at Captain Tusker’s bare bones, feeling for all the world as though he was in over his head.

For the briefest of moments he questioned why he had come here all alone, why he hadn’t waited for some form of back-up from the other Freedom Fighters. Why did he have to take off on his own? He was a builder, an engineer, not a fighter, not a treasure hunter. He had no business being on this end of a mission without support.

Such lamentations were banished from his mind by the iron hand of logic. He was here because he’d been worried. Bottlenose, or more accurately Sargasso possessing Bottlenose, had made it sound so desperate. And really, what could the others have done to help him in this situation, beyond offering moral support? As far as Rotor knew, he was the only one on the entire planet who could have entered this cave and done this job. With his herd and the world resting on his shaky shoulders, now was not the time to succumb to frustration; there was always an answer.

As he replaced the cap upon his head, looking at the skeletal remains of his distant ancestor, something donned on him. Tusker’s hat. The hats of sailors were tight, snug-fitting so as to prevent the winds from blowing them off said sailors’ heads. But Tusker had done all his sailing under the water, enclosed in the metal and wood body of the Tuskernini. His fighting tactics had been to move through the water, not over it, meaning he wouldn’t have worn the hat in combat. It was purely for show, and thus had not been fitted snugly to his head. And yet, as the young prodigy stared at the chapeau gracing the yellowed skull, it was exactly where it would have been on Rotor’s head, right above his brow. And unless the good Captain had had an exceptionally pointy skull, with no flesh clinging to his head, it should be lower.

Once more Rotor approached the resting corpse, standing as close as he could bear as his toes lifted him up high enough to grab the hat. Carefully he lifted it from the skull and, underneath the hat, just as he had thought, sat an egg-shaped rock the color of sea green. Disturbed from its hiding place after so long, the Tidal Stone wobbled for a minute before it began to roll off the smooth skull. Acting quickly Rotor was able to catch his prize. Just as Sargasso had said, the magical nature of the thing was apparent, even to him. Clutching the stone in one hand, Rotor carefully replaced the hat upon Captain Tusker’s head, watching in grim satisfaction as it sank down to cover the topmost part of his eyes. Silently he thanked his ancestor again for understanding his descendant’s trespass as he turned away and prepared to exit the tomb, a smile on his whiskered face.

Now that he had the stone, he had a chance against Sargasso.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sargasso clicked his claws irritably as he floated near the barrier that prevented him from moving further along in the cave. He’d dismissed his two shark bodyguards, sending them to patrol the outskirts of the mine. In the end the sudden appearance of the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters had been a blessing, but the last thing the lobster wizard needed was more nosey meddlers coming around, especially when he was so close to his goal of a water world. And besides, hypnotized the sharks offered no real company as he waited for his new errand boy to return to him. 

Sargasso smirked, or at least did so as much as his face would permit, as his thoughts drifted to the underweight walrus he’d coerced into doing his bidding. It had been simplicity itself to convince the mechanic to help him; all he’d had to do was dangle a promise before the teen’s face, and he probably could have gotten the filthy air breather to betray his friends to Robotnik. That was the thing the lobster loved so much about promises; they were a cheap currency to secure aid from the gullible.

The sound of moving water came to the wizard’s attention, and he cast a glance down the dark tunnel just in time to see Rotor turn the corner. Once more Sargasso smiled; though he could not see it, his senses told him quite clearly the youth had the Tidal Stone on him. Suddenly the walrus stopped mid-swim coming just short of the barrier that kept Sargasso at bay. Suspicious yellow eyes gazed at the purple Mobian, curious as to what game the Freedom Fighter was playing.

“Is there a problem, my ‘friend’?” Sargasso asked in a friendly enough tone, though inside he wanted to throttle the mammal slime. As his feet touched the bottom of the tunnel, Rotor reached into one of the many pockets on his infernal bandolier… and pulled forth the object of the wizard’s desires. Sargasso’s beady eyes widened at the sight of the Tidal Stone, so close to his grasp. Yet, until Rotor crossed the barrier, it might as well have been on the watery world of the Xorda for all the good it did the lobster. “Bring it to me Tusker, and as I promised all your herd will be freed of Robotnik’s power. You have my word, the word of Sargasso.” What happened next seemed to pass in slow motion for the watery wizard as Rotor’s legs crouched down on the tunnel’s floor.

“Catch me if you can,” Rotor called as he sprung forward, his body already undulating as his powerful muscles pushed him through the water at a speed Sargasso had not thought him capable of. He was a purple blur as he shot past his former captor. Before the stunned sorcerer could react, the walrus was gone. Recovery did not come long to the crustacean, however, as he realized all his plans were even now slipping through his claws. With a watery howl of rage, Sargasso summoned the raging waters and propelled himself forward in hot pursuit.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He was doing better than he’d thought. Rotor had not really expected Sargasso’s reaction time to be as bad as it had been, and had half expected to have to move past pursuing miners before he made it out of the tunnels. But make it out he did, the Tidal Stone clutched to his breast. Now that it was in his possession, he had a way to hold Sargasso at bay, at least until he could summon help from his friends. 

_& Heck even Robotnik would be a welcome ally against someone trying to drown the world,&_ Rotor thought, a poor attempt at humor on his part in a desperate situation. Sadly he was not Sonic, and such dark humor did little to lift his spirits. 

Quickly did Rotor swerve to avoid the incoming jaws of one of the two mako sharks, summoned back from its patrols by Sargasso in an effort to stop the rebellious Tusker. The walrus smiled as the two sharks tried robotically to bite him, the mind control they were under dulling their natural abilities too much for them to effectively corral the fleeing Mobian enough to hurt him. Rotor smiled, thanking the foresight he’d had in withholding his true aquatic abilities from Sargasso. The heir of the Tusker legacy was not quite as out of shape as he’d led the lobster to believe.

Still the sharks were going to be a nuisance, and he couldn’t very well have them chasing him all the way to his destination. Letting go of the Tidal Stone with one hand Rotor reached into one of his pockets and pulled for several small capsules, tossing them at the two sharks as they approached him. Upon impact with their targets, the capsules exploded, releasing a massive amount of green-brown sludge into the water that promptly bound the two predators together in a big sticky mess. Sonic may have had reason to dislike Mega Muck, but it was one of the best adhesives Rotor had ever seen. As such the walrus tended to keep a few samples of the stuff around, just in case he needed to do some quick and dirty repairs on the fly. As he turned to watch the sharks struggling to escape the sticky goo, Rotor’s peril increased as Sargasso rocketed out of the tunnel like a blue cannonball.

_& Time to go,&_ Rotor thought, resuming his flipping kick as he made his escape.

“You shall not escape me mammal,” Sargasso cried. “Or have you forgotten? All the creatures of the sea bow to Sargasso!” From the rocky outcroppings and coral reef, hundreds of fish rose at the lobster’s command, their eyes blank and emotionless as they stared at the fleeing Freedom Fighter. As he gazed upon the forces arrayed against him, Rotor couldn’t help but wonder if he should have rethought his plan. With a click of a lobster’s claw, the ocean animals charged. Once more Rotor reached into his pockets and pulled forth more Mega Muck capsules, tossing them into the oncoming crowd of fish as he left. Unknown to them, however, was the fact that one of the capsules did not contain the sludgy muck, but instead extremely concentrated black ink. When this capsule exploded, the inky darkness spread over the area quickly startling the fish and even Sargasso as day transformed into night. In the confusion Rotor launched himself again, heading for the spot he’d left his bathysphere where, hopefully, he would be able to contact Knothole for reinforcements. 

The red submarine did not come into view soon enough for Rotor’s tastes. All the physical activity he’d been through was beginning to wear on his body, and his lungs were starting to get that burning feeling that told him he needed air. To surface now would likely cost him precious time he did not have if he was going to make his escape with the Tidal Stone. As long as he could put that stone in danger, Rotor was fairly sure the herd would be safe. And besides, the bathysphere had air aplenty inside it and would be a much faster way to travel.

The airlock had only barely drained before Rotor forced open the inner door of the submarine, rushing recklessly to the computer of the ship and initiating the start-up procedures. Still holding the stone in one hand he grabbed hold of the ship’s communications equipment with the other.

“This is Rotor Tusker of Knothole calling anyone who can receive my signal, please respond, over,” he called into the microphone. “Anyone at all, please respond, over!” The ship suddenly shook violently, tossing the walrus to the floor. Looking out the glass he let out a gasp as the massive form of Fluke the blue whale moved over the bathysphere again, his flat tail slamming into the hull of the smaller ship and causing it to shake again. Quickly he grabbed for the microphone that had fallen from his hands. “Scratch that, don’t bother responding!” he screamed. “Any Freedom Fighter cells within the sound of my voice zero in on my position in the Northern Seas and send reinforcements. I repeat, reinforcements are requested for an Alpha level emergency at the Northern...” Static came to Rotor’s ears as he looked out his window just in time to see his communications antennae fall to the ground, the sparking form of P.B. Jellyfish descending with it. Behind the invertebrate Rotor’s eyes could see the shadowed silhouette of Bottlenose as the dolphin charged the bathysphere, crashing hard into the window and managing to crack the reinforced glass. Out of options Rotor forced the engines to complete their start-up prematurely and pulled up on the throttle to make his submarine move. Slowly the propellers began to move the vessel forward, gradually picking up speed as Rotor worked to arm the weapons systems. He didn’t want to have to hurt the Quadruple F, but it was probably better to do that then leave them under Sargasso’s spell. Another strike however, this one to the sub’s side, sent the bathysphere spinning out of control and crashing into a rock formation. Outside Rotor could see the two sharks, free now from their previous sticky situation, charging for a second attack. Feverishly did the young pilot work to regain control of his vessel, pushing the engines to go forward even as he saw his assailants charging him. 

“I’m losing power to the engines,” Rotor observed as he stared at the blinking readouts on the computer. “Even if I get away I won’t be able to get far.” He needed a plan, something that would hopefully make full use of the temporary protection he was afforded in being surrounded by protective armor. “The land. If I can get to land Sargasso won’t be able to get to me or this stone.” Quickly he pulled on the controls, forcing the critically damaged machine to ascend from the ocean steps. Outside he could hear the sharks, Bottlenose, and P.B. Jellyfish attacking the bathysphere, Sargasso’s desperate attempt to immobilize the resilient ship without potentially losing the stone inside. A smile crossed his lips as he spotted the water’s surface dead ahead. That same smile faded as he watched the large figure of Fluke appear as if out of nowhere, blocking his path.

“I really hate to do this to you,” Rotor said as he armed his torpedoes. He would probably have a lot of apologizing to do if this worked, but again he reasoned hurting the whale was better than letting Sargasso win. With the push of a button four torpedoes launched, their own propellers pushing them forward at fantastic speeds. Four explosions sounded, and Rotor’s already droopy looking face fell further as he realized the torpedoes had been forced to explode prematurely. This fact was emphasized even more by the sight of Fluke’s tail coming down at him, striking the hapless submarine and forcing it back to the ocean’s floor. The impact was bone jarring as Rotor himself crashed into some of the back panels of the ship, his head bouncing roughly off the hard surface of the metal. All around him water began to seep into the cockpit, a clear sign that the hull of the bathysphere was no longer as watertight as its creator would have liked.

For a few seconds, Rotor’s head swam and his vision blurred as darkness threatened to overwhelm him. Understanding that succumbing to unconsciousness’s tender embrace would only lead to inevitable capture and most likely death, Rotor fought to remain awake. Though his head throbbed and his muscles ached, the walrus got to his feet and moved to collect the Tidal Stone from where it had fallen. Just as he did so, the groaning of straining metal warned him that he didn’t have much time before the hull gave way completely and he was once more in need of an oxygen supply. The young mechanic only managed to take one deep breath before this prediction came true. Tearing open the former airlock, Rotor again made a beeline for the surface, more desperate now than he’d been before. Land was still his best chance to evade Sargasso. 

As he made for the surface, he failed to notice Bottlenose before the dolphin Freedom Fighter could strike him from below, driving the air from the walrus as he sent the bruised and battered Freedom Fighter sailing out of the water and into the air. So stunned was Rotor from the strike that he barely had time to recover before he hit the water again, able only to draw a quick and inadequate breath. From his sides the sharks once more attacked, their jaws opened as they moved to rend his flesh from his bones. Though he needed another breath soon, surfacing would limit his ability to maneuver, a limitation that would be quite lethal if he allowed it. And so he dove.

Deeper and deeper he went, moving at an angle as he worked to avoid the swimming teeth that had turned to follow him, Bottlenose leading the charge. Walruses were fast underwater, but sharks and dolphins were faster. As they moved within striking distance of their apparently helpless prey, Rotor turned at the last possible second. Once more, reflexes dulled by being controlled by someone else proved inadequate to compensate as the three predators slammed headfirst into the rocky floor below. Even as he celebrated this small victory, Rotor could feel his lungs burning for fresh air, his aerobic exertions having depleted the oxygen he’d managed to take. Immediately his began a mad underwater dash for the surface, unsure if he’d make it in time from this distance. Gladness filled his heart as he realized he would indeed be able to breathe soon, but it was such hopes that Sargasso took pleasure in crushing.

The lobster had been waiting, watching as his minions tired out the treacherous walrus. It would have been child’s play to summon the currents of the waves and throw the hapless walrus around in the water, but such a quick and relatively painless defeat would not repay even the merest fraction of the insult this airbreather had given him. And so he had commanded Bottlenose to deplete the young walrus’s supply of fell air, and then sent the stupid mammal and his sharks on a chase, fully expecting what Rotor would do to save himself. Now as he watched the walrus struggle to the surface, seeking the air he so desperately needed, the currents came at Sargasso’s command and the lobster made his move.

Hard claws and an exoskeleton covered body wrapped themselves firmly around the soft and tenderized tissue as tired muscles fought back as best they could against currents that began to pull them back underwater. A small secondary arm reached into one of the pockets slung across the walrus’s frame to retrieve the Tidal Stone.

“Now you shall pay the price for foolishly defying my will,” the lobster hissed as he held tight to young Rotor’s struggling body. The teenaged walrus’s lungs felt like they were going to explode as he was held underwater by his adversary. Though he was at home in the water, the Tusker was still a mammal, and needed to breathe air to survive. This, combined with his recent exertions attempting to evade those that had been sent to stop him by this very lobster, left him completely at the mercy of the aquatic arthropod, even if his body had been in the best of shape and not battered and bruised. Just above him, no more than a few feet, he could see the clear surface water of the northern seas that were his home, inviting him to break it and fill his lungs with life giving oxygen. Still his lobster assailant clung to him, holding him under the waves despite his valiant efforts to escape. Slowly his vision began to blur as darkness descended on his mind, his body slowly becoming still as it was released to sink into the depths below. The sneering face of Sargasso leered down at him as he lost consciousness his mind unable to comprehend that it was here of all places that he would meet an untimely end…

_& Skeeter, Mom… I’m sorry. I failed you.&_


	4. Chapter 4

_& I’m… I’m breathing.&_

Those were the first words that came to Rotor’s mind as his brain slowly began to switch back on. Though to others this might have been a given, to someone who’s last, and he’d truly thought final, memories had been of drowning underwater, this knowledge came as something of a surprise. A small groan escaped his lips as he tried to figure out where he was, his eyelids refusing to open at the moment.

He was warm and dry, and a thick blanket had been thrown over him to keep hypothermia from setting in. A flickering light that shown through his eyelids indicated a fire was nearby. Someone had invested some effort into not only saving his life, but keeping him alive to boot. While this might have made Rotor somewhat more at ease about his situation, he couldn’t help but notice that this same person had felt inclined to tie his hands behind his back and his legs together.

_& This happens entirely too much to me,&_ Rotor thought as he began to wiggle, trying to move the left arm he was laying on into a position that would stop it from tingling. Unfortunately his movement thus proved enough to attract the attention of his rescuers.

“Hey look, tubbo’s awake!” a squeaky voice proclaimed for all to hear. 

_& Tubbo?&_ the walrus thought indignantly as his eyes finally decided to open and present him with blurred images of the world around him. A flickering orange shape ahead of him confirmed a fire’s presence, while the harsh whiteness that surrounded him indicated a structure of some kind. All this was obscured from his view, however, but the green shape that suddenly got right in his face. 

“Guess we aren’t gonna have walrus streaks tonight,” the form said. At the mention of “walrus steaks” Rotor’s eyes shot open and he began to struggle, not at all interested in becoming some depraved green thing’s next meal.

“Settle down Freedom Fighter,” commanded a gruff voice as a powerful hand forced the walrus to be still. His vision clearing allowed Rotor to see a pale yellow patch resolve within the white field of the walls. More and more the image became clearer as the green and pale yellow figures took on definition and detail. Slowly but surely Rotor recognized his saviors, and a little lump fell into his throat.

“Bean? Bark?” he asked, addressing the duck and polar bear mercenaries. The duo looked at him.

“Good, you are awake,” Bark said in his stoic voice. “I wasn’t looking forward to hauling your carcass around when we left, you Tuskers get heavy.”

“Hauling me…? What happened? Where am I?”

“Ha, you’re in an igloo and you don’t know where you are?” Bean asked. From seemingly out of nowhere the waterfowl produced a pair of sunglasses and a grass skirt. “You’re in tropical Sibaula, baby!” Upon his declaration the deranged duck began to hoola, stopping only when his larger partner’s fist slammed into his head, disorienting him. Bark grabbed Bean and walked to the side of the fire opposite Rotor where chairs stood and sat down.

“You’re in the Northern Territories of what was once the Kingdom of Acorn,” he said bluntly. “As to what happened… All I know is I found you underwater while I was looking for supper and pulled you up. We were able to get you breathing again, but you were pretty cold so we brought you back here to see if you’d survive. How you got there, though, is a story I was hoping you could enlighten us with.”

“How long have I been out?” Rotor asked. It was possible, if he hadn’t been unconscious for too long, that he could still stop Sargasso.

“Twenty-four hours,” Bark stated. “We were almost ready to just pack up and leave.”

“NO!!” Rotor howled dejectedly. Sargasso was most likely gone, along with the whole Tusker herd to do his bidding and the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters as well, and there was no hope in finding them again. 

“Yeowch, talk about a whine,” Bean quipped. “What’sa matter tubby, miss your step aerobics class…”

“They’re gone… all gone,” Rotor began to lament, not even reacting to Bean’s insult. “I’ll never see them again.”

“What’s going on, Freedom Fighter?” Bark once more asked. “What have you gotten yourself into?” Rotor looked at the polar bear, trying to gauge how much he should reveal to a Mobian he didn’t trust. He didn’t like these two, but he wasn’t exactly in the best position to be ignoring them.

“There’s… there’s this lobster, and he kidnapped my herd. He was using them to dig up a mine around here.”

“Wait, that’s what they were doing?” Bean said, turning his attention back towards Rotor, and totally neglecting the painting he’d been doing of Rotor’s story.

“Huh?”

“Bean and I saw all those walruses working in those near here,” Bark revealed. “We thought they were Freedom Fighters working on something up here…” At the mention of his herd, Rotor shrugged off the blanket and managed to work himself into a sitting position.

“You’ve seen them? How long ago?”

“Only a few hours ago,” Bark responded. Pure delight came to the walrus’s face as he heard these words.

“They’re still there?! Then it isn’t too late. I can still save them and stop Sargasso.” Immediately Rotor began to struggle against his bonds, only to stop when one of Bark’s large yellowish paws struck his chest and slammed him against the wall.

“I don’t think so,” the bear gruffly proclaimed. “I’m the one who had to fish you out of the water so you wouldn’t drown, which means I’m the one who says where you’re going next.”

“You don’t understand! Sargasso’s going to hurt them!”

“Not my problem, kid,” he responded. “My problem is money, and the making thereof. And you my friend are going to net me quite a bit, so you’re not going anywhere.”

“Guess that means your herd’s gonna bite the big one,” Bean chimed in.

“What do you plan to do with me?”

“You’re a Freedom Fighter, right? One of the original five… well six if you count that bratty fox. Dr. Robotnik’s got a nice fat bounty on each one of you.” Rotor favored the polar bear with a confused look. That he had a bounty on his head was news to him, though to be honest he was rarely out and about beyond Knothole’s borders. “The egg-face may be fixated on your little blue friend, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten that Sonic had help for all those years.”

“So you’re going to try to sell me to Eggman?” Rotor asked; a contemptuous look on his face. “You do know that kind of deal’s been done to death right? And I’m not talking figuratively.”

“Give me some credit Tusker, I’m not as big an idiot as Nack is,” Bark retorted. “I’ve got a plan that’ll get me my money without running a risk of roboticization. Fortunately for you, it might not come to that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ol’ Buttnik’s not trustworthy, like you said,” Bean interjected. “But we’re bettin’ the Freedom Fighters’ll pay big to get you back, ‘specially now that Daddy’s bankrollin’ his kid.”

“No!” Rotor cried. He wasn’t overly concerned about his own safety, now that he knew the duo’s plans for him. They would take him to Knothole City first and, though the King and Sally would make a show of paying a ransom, he was fairly certain his friends were more than a match for Bean and Bark and would be able to rescue him. The problem lay in the fact that, if he’d guessed correctly about their current state of affairs, neither the duck nor the bear possessed a vehicle of any sort, and most likely planned to hike their way to Knothole. And such a trip would take days.

If Sargasso was indeed still in the area and the herd was still with him, it could only mean that the greedy crustacean was trying to unearth the rest of Tusker’s Treasure from the sea caves. If that were the case, at the rate he was having them work, and the herd would complete its task fairly soon and then there was no telling what might happen to them… Actually Rotor was fairly sure of what would happen to them, but he preferred not to think along those lines at the moment. If he allowed Bean and Bark to remove him from the Northern Territories now, then, even with the Freedom Fighters’ help, he’d never be able to get back in time to save the herd.

“You can’t take me from here, my herd will die if I don’t find a way to rescue them,” he pleaded.

“We’ll send flowers,” Bean flippantly remarked as Bark once more reiterated that the walrus’s situation was not their problem.

“You’ll die too,” Rotor blurted. This got the duo’s attention. Though not wholly interested the suffering of others, their own safety was of utmost concern.

“And just how do you come to that conclusion?”

“Sargasso… He hates airbreathers. He’s going to flood the world, make it totally water.”

“Didn’t Robotnik try something like that?” Bean interrupted, though Rotor ignored the duck and pressed onward.

“Sargasso is a sorcerer see, and he’s got a magic stone that’ll let him control all the water in the world.” At Rotor’s explanation, Bean broke out in a fit of laughter, and even Bark let loose a chuckle.

“Man oh man, I’ve heard some whoppers before but this,” Bean mocked. “You sure you didn’t snack on a bad fish somewhere around here?” For once in his life, Rotor found himself sympathizing with Robotnik for when Sonic made fun of his seemingly exaggerated explanations.

“It’s true. If you don’t let me stop him, he’ll flood the world and we’ll all be underwater forever.”

“Not exactly a problem for us, tusk boy,” Bean remarked as he shoved his webbed feet in Rotor’s face.

“A good chuckle, Freedom Fighter, well worth the price of the blanket I lent you to stay warm,” Bark remarked. “But I suggest you get some sleep now. Tomorrow morning will come very early, and I won’t be in the mood to listen to whining about being tired.”

_& No! They don’t believe me,&_ Rotor thought, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. _& There has to be some way to convince them to let me go…&_

“I’ll pay you!” As the words were spoken, Rotor wondered just who it was who had spoken them. It was only after a few seconds that he realized the words had come from his own lips, a fact Bark and Bean seemed acutely aware of.

“With what? You don’t exactly strike me as someone who’s sitting on a mound of money, at least not compared to your King or even the Doc,” Bean asked, curious as to what yarn the walrus would now spin to amuse himself and his friend. Bark seemed less willing to be flippant and more interested in what Rotor had to say, though he honestly doubted the walrus could tempt him.

“My submarine,” Rotor finally answered.

“What would we want with a stupid sandwich?” Bean asked, chuckling as he did so.

“Not the food, the ship, my ship; the Bathysphere,” explained the tied up Freedom Fighter. “It’s how I made it here so quickly. I have an underwater submarine, and if you help me save my herd, it’s all yours.”

“What exactly would we need with a submarine?” Bark asked, though his mind was already coming up with all sorts of ways he could make money with such a vessel.

“Simple, if I fail and Sargasso floods the world, you’ll be able to survive the change. You’ll have air and a dry place to sleep and maybe you can find a way to keep going.” Again Bark looked at his captive skeptically, and again Rotor sweated. “And if I can stop him, you still have a submarine. Think about it. Everyone uses flying ships to move about these days, but you have something that operates on a completely different level. You could go about completely undetected. There are only about four such ships in the world, and the Bathysphere is more than up to the task of defending itself if it needs to. And it’s small enough to move up inland rivers and such so you’re not cut off from land. It’s the perfect mode of transport for the both of you, a way to move around without being seen.”

“That may be, but there’s no way such a ship is worth the loss of what we’d get for you AND us helping you against some water wielding wizard in his own element.” That wasn’t good. Rotor had already tried to face Sargasso and lost badly on his own. Without some sort of edge, this time would undoubtedly be no different. He needed Bark and Bean to help him.

“What if I gave you something else too?”

“That leads us back to what? And keep in mind that I’m not into barter, I need cash, not junk and you most likely don’t have enough money on you.”

“But I can GET it. How much would you have gotten if you took me to Knothole?”

“Robotnik’s bounty on you was five thousand mobiums. Not the most impressive sum, but your friends would still have had to beat it to secure your release.”

“Six thousand then. Once I get to Knothole, I’ll get you six thousand mobiums, no strings attached and no double-crosses.” Again Bark gave a short laugh, the kind one gives to someone who doesn’t quite get the joke.

“You misunderstand walrus,” Bark explained. “Six thousand, even five thousand mobiums, would be enough to entice me to travel with you back to Knothole or New Megaopolis, and maybe even endure some of the minor problems you’d probably cause me too. It’s nowhere near enough to get me and Bean to help you fight some water shooting wizard… and underwater no less.”

“Ten thousand than,” Rotor responded, speaking before he knew what he was doing. Inwardly he mused that he had no idea how he was going to get such a large sum of money, but that was a problem to solve later. “Ten thousand mobiums, plus the bathysphere, for your help.”

“We’re not a credit union,” Bean pointed out. “We get paid upfront or we don’t play.” Bark suddenly stood up and approached the bound up Tusker, and Rotor shivered a little, thinking that maybe he’d played his hand too far and now Bark was going to punish him for it.

“I’ll give you this, Freedom Fighter, you’ve got a lot of guts,” the polar bear said as, to his captive’s and his partner’s great surprise, he began to untie the walrus. “Not a lot of brains, least not where it counts, but guts.”

“Does this mean you’ll help me?”

“Not a chance,” Bark replied. “But you have managed to touch my heart with your story, and your promise of a submarine.” Rotor shivered at the mention of the submarine he so clearly remembered to be broken thanks to Sargasso’s minions. “So this is the bargain. I’ll let you go and you can try to save your herd on your own.” Rotor rubbed his raw wrists as he pondered the polar bear’s offer.

“But I need help. What if I offered more money?” A bold faced lie, the walrus knew, but again he was desperate and in need of some kind of edge. Bark and Bean might have been the goofiest mercenaries around, but they were effective.

“No dice. We may be water workers, but Bean’s bombs don’t work so well underwater and I’m not interested in twenty to one odds if I have to help you. Now get going before I change my mind.”

“Bark?” Bean asked, not sure why his partner was passing up such easy money for a sob story and a ship that might not even be real. Naiveté was usually the Dynamite Duck’s department, not Bark’s; if the polar bear wanted to switch roles, he really should have let Bean know ahead of time.

Rotor favored the two Mobian mercenaries with icy stares, clearly displeased that there was no way to appeal to their better natures for help, and grabbed his proffered bandolier and hat. Grunting in disappointment the teenaged walrus stomped out the door. Outside Rotor realized the igloo he’d been in was one of several, and entire village of igloos. That the layout looked familiar came as no surprise to him, given that this was the very village he himself had come from. How much more desolate the world seemed as he looked at the rundown visage of his childhood home, abandoned so long ago.

“Kid!” Bark called, and for a split second Rotor hoped the brawny bear had reconsidered helping him. Such hopes were soon dashed however. “I last saw your herd about two miles off the coast of this village.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Hey, I could have let you search endlessly,” Bark reminded him. “That’s the last bit of help you get without paying, got it?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rotor snipped, in no mood to thank the bear for what amounted to nothing. He’d known where to go the instant he’d realized this to be his former home. Without another word, Rotor fell to his belly and began to slide along the ice; his destination the water’s edge and the promise of turmoil it held.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Rotor did not head immediately back to Sargasso’s dig site, knowing full well that to go barreling in to the situation was just asking for a repeat of his previous failure; a repeat that would most assuredly not have so happy an interlude after it. The lobster wizard currently held the belief that Rotor was lying somewhere on the ocean floor, or more likely had been taken away by some bottom dwelling scavenger for sustenance. He also believed that no one knew what he was up to and this was most likely why he’d decided to remain at the task of digging up the rest of the treasure and not getting on with the business of flooding the entire world. Rotor didn’t know if his earlier message had made it to anyone who might be on their way to intercede, so he was forced to operate under the assumption that reinforcements were not coming.

He needed an edge.

Some way he could actually fight Sargasso and his minions, including, the mechanic dejectedly thought, the walrus herd Sargasso was almost certain to send against him this time. And so Rotor found himself skirting the territory of the mine, unwilling to come closer for fear that he’d be spotted by some minuscule plankton and blasted by an angry current for his trouble. He’d already been to the bathysphere. Just as he’d feared, the ship was scuttled. There was no way to repair it without bringing it to the surface, and even then he didn’t have time to fix it up to be seaworthy enough to help him. 

_& This is hopeless,&_ he thought as he rose to the surface. _& I’m no match for Sargasso. Why’d I have to be so stupid to think I could help my herd without back-up.&_ Even as a calf he’d felt better in a group, more secure, more able. As long as someone else was there to help him when he’d fallen, he’d been more than willing to be adventurous. But now…

He so wished he could just have been back in his workshop, offering up advice and gadgets to whoever Sally would have sent on this mission had he gotten help rather than rushing off. Then he most likely wouldn’t be in this mess…

_& Shut up!&_ Rotor angrily told himself. This was no time to be moping, no time to be making useless wishes. The fact remained that he was here and no one else, so he had to find a way to accomplish the mission. _& I’m the only one who can face Sargasso in open water, so it wouldn’t matter if anyone else were here, they’d still depend on me to lead the way,&_ he rationalized, trying not to think about the money grubbing polar bear and duck he’d left on the shores.

Once more the walrus felt the need to breathe, a limitation he was beginning to find annoying as he thought of all the ways it put him at a disadvantage against someone with gills. As he began to surface for the umpteenth time for fresh air a sudden sparkle below caught his attention. Mentally marking the place, the walrus stuck his head above the water and took a second to clear his lungs before taking a deep breath and disappearing beneath the waves. Like a sub-water bullet he swam back to the bottom of the deep, his eyes searching restlessly for the spot he’d seen before. Almost convinced what he’d seen had been some form of mirage, Rotor had been quite surprised when a second sparkle came to his attention. Just as before he recognized what it meant.

Metal. Not the unrefined ore one could sometimes find pushed to the surface by the numerous geological shifts the ocean floor underwent daily, but true, refined metal; the kind that was still able to reflect the rays of the sun for someone to see. Determination in his heart, Rotor swam for all he was worth, his every sense telling him that whatever was down there he needed to find. And as he came upon it, recognizing its form and its function, the young Tusker’s eyes went wide with disbelief.

It was buried underneath a rockslide, and damaged to boot, but enough of the glorious machine remained visible to allow Rotor to get a good view of it. It was an underwater frame, a U-Frame, one of many such machines employed by the Kingdom of Acorn to perform underwater construction and limited surveys. Sometimes bipedal, and often equipped with numerous arms for collecting samples or manipulating delicate equipment, this one was a bigger model, obviously designed to be launched either from an actual carrier or the land as opposed to another submersible. One of the exposed legs displayed wheels along its side, a feature he’d probably find more or less on the legs that weren’t. Most likely this one was being used for long term deep sea work, perhaps, Rotor fancied for a moment, even an attempt to locate Tusker’s famous buried treasure for a museum somewhere. As he proceeded to remove some of the smaller rocks covering the machine, all thoughts of such benignity in this machine’s purpose were removed as he saw the insignia stamped upon its surface.

When he had first begun his campaign to wipe out all life on Mobius and replace it with his own twisted robotic versions, Robotnik had not possessed the massive amounts of SWATbots, Combots, Stealthbots and assorted other mass produced monsters that made up his grand army these days. This, combined with the loss of his massive Destroyer warship, left him somewhat depleted when Mobotropolis had fallen before him, forcing him to begin co-opting the conquered kingdom’s mechanical resources to fill out the massive holes in his military so he could successfully conquer as much of the planet as he did. As he gazed at the stylized version of the demented dictator’s face on the smooth steel, as well as the partially hidden weapons that had been attached to the frame, Rotor realized that that policy been extended to this hapless specimen of Acorn technology. The realization that this very machine had probably been used during Robotnik’s conquest and capture of his own herd almost made the Freedom Fighter leave in disgust.

Fortunately, the youthful mechanic’s intrinsic need overcame his disgust.

Moving around to the machine’s entry hatch, Rotor found himself able to jimmy the door open with a screwdriver, though not without a bit of difficulty. Inside, just as he had feared, the machine was flooded, though small pockets of air did appear here and there. Overall, however, the rig did not look overtly damaged on the inside. It had ever been Robotnik’s policy to build new machines rather than retrieve and repair his old ones, a belief that virtually ensured working examples of his technology would be littered all about the planet, even under the water. Thus it was that Rotor was fairly sure that, aside from whatever damage the rockslide had done to stop it, the U-Frame was probably in relatively good shape. 

In less time than it took to tell Rotor made it to the machine’s cockpit, no difficult feat really. Designed for underwater work, space had been economized for conservation of air needs. Though bigger than other models he’d seen, even this behemoth no doubt was only intended to have a single Mobian in it, maybe two. Swimming up to the seat, Rotor found what had served as a pilot for the machine when it had been in Dr. Robotnik’s employ. It looked a little like a gigantic brittle starfish. A spheroid body sat in the seat with five tentacle-like arms jutting from it, hanging limply now that the machine no longer worked. A huge dent graced the otherwise flawless exterior of the sphere, a tear at its center revealing why the machine no longer worked. Though the U-Frame was shielded against damage caused by the salty water of its environment, the robotic pilot had obviously not been. 

Having no fear of Robotnik’s tendrilled pet attacking him, Rotor went about trying to see just how serviceable this craft was. In short order the walrus found the air containers for the ballast tanks of the machine, used to allow the U-Frame to rise or fall in the water depending on the need. At the present moment, he didn’t need any such function, what he needed was to get rid of the water in the flooded cockpit. Standing as far to the side as he could, Rotor held his strongest screwdriver upside down in his hand, steeling himself up for the dangerous act he was about to perform. With a mighty strike, the walrus drove the sharp tool down into the tank, yanking his hand away and ducking behind the chair the moment he felt the surrogate spike make contact with the metal tank. Inside the tank the air, having indeed been pressurized to help it perform its job, burst forward from the container. Rotor gave a sudden shriek as he gripped his head, his ears attempting to adjust to the sudden and dramatic change in pressure around him. The sensation ended and, as he took a tentative few breaths, the Freedom Fighter took stock of the now dry area. Damage to the hull became apparent as small trickles of water began to seep back in, the force of the sudden air pressure having abated enough for it to do so.

Once more Rotor picked up a tool from his myriad of pockets, this time his thermal welder, a small heat based tool that was essentially a welding torch that lacked an open flame. As such, it could actually be used underwater or, as Rotor now found himself in, an oxygen rich environment. Quickly he began to patch up the small but numerous holes that marred the structure, and thus did he find himself with a relatively dry space to work in. Opening the access panels for the electronic controls, Rotor went to work, splicing together wires and circuit boards that had been damaged both in the accident and by exposure to the saltwater. Though he found himself cannibalizing some of the less essential systems, for the most part the walrus was able to bring life back to the U-Frame. Not surprising, considering that these machines had been designed for underwater work that even a damaged one was resistant to environmental problems.

As the computer console hummed back to life, its numerous monitors lighting up again after so many years of dormancy, Rotor smiled, watching as the computer began displaying a full systems check for itself. Though a few of the more extraneous systems came up blank, due more to Rotor stealing parts from them than actual damage they’d incurred, the more important ones such as life-support, motor control, and sensors were all sounding off beautifully. Perhaps most gratifying though, was the confirmation that the weapons systems were also fully function. Grabbing hold of one of the control sticks, the Freedom Fighter gave it a testing pull. Outside he spotted it as one of the five arms sticking out of the machine, the only one not pinned under the rubble, began to move. Though thin and spindly, it was full capable of lifting heavy girders under the water and holding it then in place to be welded, the “hand” at the end of it dexterous enough to grab hold of rocks no bigger than Rotor’s own head. As he watched the arm move slowly over to one of the rocks pinning its brethren, a smile crossed the Tusker’s lips.

He had found his edge.


	5. Chapter 5

Gazing into the surface of the Tidal Stone, Sargasso couldn’t help but smile as he imagined his own face being reflected in its dull surface. Though logically he knew this to be an impossible feat, it was after all carved from base stone and not a jewel or other reflective substance, the power that the item contained made the lobster want to believe it could possess reflective abilities. His hard shell tingled as he held the fabulous artifact in his claw, a testament to the vast power of his ancestor’s greatest creation. Why Suguna had ever permitted the Tidal Stone out of more than a claw’s reach Sargasso would never understand, but as he now held the stone it was not a mystery he particularly cared to solve. Let other wizards try to claim dominance over the lesser elements of Fire, Air, or Earth; now that he held complete dominion over Water, nothing could stop his divine plans…

_& Nothing save the slow-witted walruses,&_ he thought irritably as he cast a distasteful glance down from his perch at the mammalian Mobians as they continued to dig up his new treasure in a robotic fashion. That this particular herd had been working nonstop over the course of the weeks since he’d captured them, granted breaks only to prevent them from collapsing under exhaustion or starvation, meant absolutely nothing to the greedy crustacean. All that mattered was that they retrieve as much of Tusker’s treasure as they could before they keeled over in exhaustion, making up for the entire day he’d been forced to waste to get them ready for their prodigal son’s return. When he’d realized he needed Rotor to enter the actual tomb of Captain Tusker, Sargasso had also realized the walrus was far less likely to be fooled into helping him if his herdsmen looked like they’d been mistreated. As long as the lobster could claim he had no interest in actually hurting them, he’d believed they would serve to make the Freedom Fighter more pliable to his will.

This had been a miscalculation, he’d later realized, but one that had been easy enough to rectify. And, though he’d actually planned to simply eliminate the herd once Rotor had retrieved the stone for him, the very thought of all that lovely gold just wasting away in those caves where none could look at it and love it seemed too wasteful to Sargasso. So here he stood, upon the rocks overlooking the dig, watching as his miners worked themselves quite literally to death. The wizard smiled. Perhaps, once they were done, he’d bury them all within the sea caves; a fitting testament to the former glory of Captain Tusker and his worthless offspring who’d thought to actually steal the Tidal Stone.

With thoughts of the horde he was about to acquire dancing through his imagination, his thoughts turned towards his plans after the fact; the great and cleansing flood he intended to create. Maybe he would use his newfound powers to recall the waters of the world first, create a horrible drought to force the retched land dwelling Mobians to the brink of dehydration before answering their pitiful requests for water by raising the planet’s oceans over even the highest mountains. Then, once the surface had been cleansed, all that would be left would be the Floating Island and its despicable echidnas. Though Sargasso had little doubt he could raise the water level enough to destroy the aerial landmass, that was simply wasted effort. The Floating Island had its own water supply, one the lobster could easily control. Perhaps he’d call it the Wandering Pond, the last source of completely fresh water on the planet. A little summer home he could go to when he grew tired of being a big fish in a big pond…

And of course, with the echidnas gone, the Master Emerald and its seven servants would simply need a new guardian, and who better than the most powerful wizard on the planet. 

It was with thoughts of adding those eight deliciously large gemstones to his horde that Sargasso’s attention turned out to the open seas where his two pets were making their way towards him, no doubt done with their patrols for the time being. Though the mako sharks were just as much tools to be used by him as the walrus herd, the fact that they had gills made them somewhat more tolerable for the lobster to be around. He would never consider allowing them to slip the bonds of the Coral Crown of course, but he did view them with as much affection as a Mobian like himself could muster for lesser life forms. And he was in such a good mood he began to consider rewarding their service with a little snack. Malicious eyes were cast upon the form of the same walrus calf Rotor had been so protective of earlier.

Sargasso was so caught up with his own depraved thoughts that he failed to notice the sound of water being roughly pushed aside as an object moved through it at high-speed. It was only when the torpedo slammed into his rocky vantage, exploding with enough force to obliterate the ledge he had stood on previously, casting the lobster back to the ocean floor from whence he’d crawled, that he noticed he was under attack.

“WHO DARES!!” he bellowed, baleful eyes cast upon his attacker. Hatred turned to stunned curiosity as he saw the machine that had launched the torpedo. It stood upon four legs, their knees bent in back in an odd imitation of a chicken’s. Five thin looking arms jutted from the large ovoid torso, two on either side with one on top. Guns hung beneath it, specially designed to fire under the waves while two torpedo tubes were attached to the top. Headlights shone brightly from the front, directly under the clear glass hatch of the cockpit. It was who was in the cockpit that caused Sargasso’s face to once more twist in rage.

Rotor smiled at him from the controls, sweat on his brow from the heat generated by the machine, but more than comfortable now that the odds against him had been somewhat evened.

“You survived?!” Sargasso half asked, half accused, as though Rotor’s survival had been a personal insult to the wizard.

“I want my herd, I want that stone, and I want you GONE,” Rotor answered back, his voice uncharacteristically harsh and bold as he tried to put as much authority into it as possible. He needed Sargasso to attack, to lose his cool, before he could employ the power of the stone he’d gotten from Rotor. It occurred to him that, were Sonic in his shoes, he might have added some nasty little quip designed to get Sargasso’s goat while boosting his own moral. At this point in time however, the walrus Freedom Fighter was just tired of dealing with the sorcerer, and extremely tired of seeing his family being treated like slaves.

“Pull that walrus from his little tin can,” Sargasso commanded his two sharks, “and bring me his head!” The sharks surged forward at the lobster Mobian’s command, swimming at an impressive speed as they prepared to try to rend the vehicle that had been brought against their master.

“This tin can may have a few flaws in it,” Rotor responded as the two forward side arms began to move at his own command, “but it’s more than a match for two sharks.” The arms swung at an angle, the hands on each closed as if to make a mechanical fist, and metallic surface slammed into tough hide and tender nose with a satisfying crunch. As the two sharks reeled from the blows, the mechanical hands opened and grabbed them by the tails, pulling them closer to the U-Frame. Twirling the control, Rotor began to swing the two predators around his head, releasing them at the right point to send them both crashing head first into the rocky wall of the sea cave. With his opponent’s now defeated, Rotor turned back towards the Mobian who had been his tormentor for the past few days. “Now it’s just you and me.”

“Correction, scion of Captain Tusker,” Sargasso said as his eyes and crown began to glow, “it is just you and THEM!” Slowly the formerly digging and hauling walruses dropped their loads and, at the mental command of their master, began to swarm Rotor’s U-Frame, intent on tearing it, and most likely him, to pieces. “Now what shall you do little Freedom Fighter? Slay your precious herd and continue to try to save the world, or surrender and accept a quick death?”

“I am so gonna get grounded for this,” Rotor mumbled as he watched his mother land on the reinforced glass window and begin to pound on it, trying to get at her son inside. Though it wasn’t exactly something he’d looked forward to, Rotor had fairly expected Sargasso to use this tactic against him, and had prepared a defense accordingly. Turning a dial on his console to the lowest feasible setting it could be and still be effective, the walrus uncovered a button that had been encased in plastic up until this point. “Sorry guys, I’ll apologize later if we survive,” he said as he pushed the button. Outside, the shell of the U-Frame came alive as electric energy surged about it, shocking the attacking herd. Rotor could almost hear his kinsman scream as their nervous systems were assaulted before they each slipped into unconsciousness. Rather than sink to the bottom of the sea and die, no doubt as Sargasso had hoped they would if Rotor beat them, the walruses began to rise to the surface, the gas bladders located in their necks and upper shoulders performing their function just as nature had intended and acting like natural life jackets to keep the walruses’ heads above water so they could continue to breathe. Most likely Rotor would have to round them all up afterward, but this at least kept them from being used again. His task complete, his attention returned to Sargasso. “Now you’re through lobster.” As his targeting computer locked onto the wizard, the young mechanic released another torpedo attack, forcing his magical opponent to move quickly or become bisque. 

“You forget,” Sargasso yelled as he swam, “I still have allies!”

“You don’t have allies, you have pawns,” Rotor retorted as the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters came into view. “And once I break that crown of yours, you’ll be all alone.” Big Fluke made his move first, intent on using his massive size to crush the U-Frame just as he’d done the bathysphere. This time Rotor was ready as he positioned the top arm of the U-Frame and engaged its grappling function. The hand shot forward, trailing a thick metal cord behind it as it grabbed a hold of Fluke’s left flipper right at the joint. Immediately Rotor began to retract the line. Though the U-Frame did not possess the necessary weight to pull down a blue whale, especially one Big Fluke’s size, its wench was strong enough to pull itself up to him. At least, that was what Rotor hope as he watched the word “CRITICAL” flashing upon his screen. This situation was not helped as Fluke began to wiggle his flipper hard, attempting to shake the walrus loose. Ray and Bottlenose seemed to realize at some level what Rotor was attempting, either that or Sargasso could not be take off guard twice, and began to attack the rope. Hoping the strain would not be too much, Rotor used the grappling arm to yank the U-Frame into something resembling an attack position and fired with his lasers. Though Bottlenose proved too agile to be dealt with so easily neutralized, Ray took the brunt of the stunning blast, sailing in a straight line at top speed into the rocks.

Soon Rotor made it up to Fluke, his mechanical legs and stabilizers working overtime to keep him on top of the gigantic mammal. Thankful that Fluke’s thick hide prevented the U-Frame’s grips from doing any real damage as the whale bucked and rolled, Rotor turned the dial controlling the defensive field up to high. He’d had to be careful not to kill the walruses with the jolt the generator could give, but Fluke was big enough to handle maximum voltage, which was actually not a good thing at this point. As he permitted the generator to charge, Rotor noticed Bottlenose swimming in for another attack, this time with P.B. Jellyfish to help him. Slowed down by trying to stay of Fluke, Rotor could do little to evade as the dolphin charged, striking one of the leg joints of the frame. P.B. was next, jetting in as close as he could to take advantage of the exposed wires of the damaged joint and using his own electric powers to create a rather nasty amount of feedback in the circuit. A metallic fist managed to connect with the jellyfish’s jaw, but given that particular Mobian’s lack of actual bones, this did little more than send the jellyfish flying. Another joint was damaged as the Quadruple F’s speedy leader struck again, but this time Bottlenose was unable to leave unscathed as Rotor’s forward lasers caught him. Rotor winced as he watched a small trail of blood leave the dolphin’s now inert form, and he hoped the damage was minimal.

Finally the generator reached a full charge, and Rotor’s fist slammed into the release button. As it happened, P.B. Jellyfish had been sneaking in again to cause more damage to the newly exposed circuits. His howls of pain were drowned out by the tortured whale song the gigantic cetacean now bellowed as electricity arched from the machine on his back around his body. Even Rotor felt some of the attack, shielded though he was by his U-Frame. Nausea began to overwhelm the Tusker as the whale bucked even harder with pain, trying to detach the attacker. Finally though, Fluke succumbed to the ferocious attack, and none too soon if the smoke rising from the U-Frame’s computer console was any indicator. As the whale’s body went still, Rotor wiped his forehead in exhaustion. Who knew playing the hero was so tiring? The walrus began to wonder where Sonic got all his energy from.

“Most impressive, Mr. Tusker,” Sargasso called as what appeared to be a clear tendril of water wrapped itself around the crippled U-Frame. “You have managed to ‘spark’ my interest in fighting you personally.” Still a little dizzy from his wild ride atop Fluke, Rotor wasn’t entirely sure of what he was seeing. A spinning image of Sargasso standing inside what appeared to be the head of a clear octopus made of actual water had risen to meet him, its tentacles gripping the U-Frame and pulling it forward. Unable to disengage the grippers on his feet in time, Rotor heard it as the damaged leg joints finally gave way, snapping the legs in half as both combatants fell once more to the seafloor. 

Rotor’s head bounced off the computer console as he landed roughly, and for a few minutes he had to fight once more to remain conscious, quite sure Sargasso would be very willing to simply kill him even if the walrus weren’t awake. His vision still swimming, the walrus started to move his damaged controls, beginning to fight the pull of the watery octopus the lobster had summoned to fight him.

“What do you expect to do with two broken legs?” Sargasso asked as his claws beckoned forward, causing his creation to pull. “Do you really believe you can break my octopus’s grip?” Two more tentacles came forward, wrapping themselves around the U-Frame’s arms for more grip.

“I can’t shock him,” Rotor muttered to himself as he looked at the burnt out button, “but maybe I can break him.” A few commands were entered into the computer and the U-Frame’s remaining two legs fold up under it, followed closely by what remained of the two broken legs. Once more Rotor was jarred as his vehicle hit the hard ocean floor, but this time it was upon wheels that it did so. Grinning maliciously at his startled opponent, Rotor pulled back on his throttle, and the wheels of the U-Frame squealed as they pulled backward. This time it was that Sargasso lurched forward as his octopus shell was yanked by the powerful engine, forcing him to use two tentacles to grab hold of some rocky outcroppings for anchors. Thus began a somewhat stalemated tug of war as the two rivals continued to pull at each other.

_& I can’t do this forever,&_ Rotor realized as he looked at his rapidly lowering fuel gauge. The frame had not possessed a full power cell when he’d found it, and using the electric field generator for such a massive surge had also served to further deplete the power cells. Throwing caution to the wind in hopes for a quick victory, Rotor jammed the throttle forward. The gears screamed as they ground against each other, but they managed to have the desired effect as the vehicle leapt forward at rapid speed, aided by the octopus that had bound it. Sargasso’s eyes winded as he saw the inbound threat and him with no time to move to avoid it. The bubble-like head of the octopus contracted with only barely enough time to cushion his body as Rotor slammed into him, sending him flying. With a bone jarring smack, Sargasso crashed into the rocky formations surrounding them. Wasting no time, Rotor used his targeting computer to acquire the stunned lobster, firing all four of his remaining torpedoes. 

With four simultaneous explosions, the battle was finally over, and none too soon as the U-Frame suddenly went dark before switching to emergency power. As he gazed out at the fuming crater his explosives had created, Rotor could see nothing of Sargasso’s remains. Most likely he’d annihilated the evil sorcerer, and with him the Coral Crown and Tidal Stone as well. Though relief filled him, the Tusker couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of loss. Though most of his young life had been encompassed by a war, Rotor had striven to cause as little pain and discomfort as possible. The taking of a life, even one like the mad lobster’s, went against his very nature. Though it had been necessary to protect his herd, the walrus couldn’t help but mourn for the loss of a fellow Mobian.

“Guess I better open the door before I lose all power and get trapped in here,” Rotor muttered as he gave the controls of his vehicle one last look. His eyes widened as he noticed something anomalous where the metal met the glass window; frost.

Formed most likely from the moisture of his breath becoming cold, Rotor might have overlooked the small crystals of ice as a normal occurrence given the frigid temperatures of the waters of the North. He might have, if he didn’t know for a fact that this frame, designed to function in such cold temperatures, was thermally shielded. Even with its power now cut to emergency, frost would not have had time to naturally form. A sinking feeling appearing in his massive gut, Rotor moved as fast as he could to the opening hatch. This action fortunately got him far enough away from the window that, when the glass suddenly froze solid, he wasn’t hurt as a giant claw shattered it and sent a rain of water and sharp glass cascading down into the chair he had previously occupied. Rotor only barely had time to draw in a breath of air before the entire interior of his ship was overcome by water. It was not the water, however, that slammed the young mechanic into the airlock door, but an exoskeleton armored shoulder. Sargasso’s angry eyes grinned at the pinned Freedom Fighter.

“You didn’t think your little toy was a match for my power did you?” Before Rotor could even utter a response, pain racked his body as the powerful pincers gripped his arms and threw him back into the console. Shards of glass that had been caught and not lain flat by the water bit into Rotor’s blubbery flesh, but this was only the beginning as his opponent surged forward again, clubbing about he head and shoulders with his claws. Sargasso was not interested in offering up this rebellious sea mammal in a quick death. For the high crimes of defying the lobster’s will, the wizard had decreed that Rotor would die slowly. 

The beating stopped as a massive claw grabbed the Freedom Fighter by the throat, roughly lifting him from console and, with a chocking force that hurt his larynx, threw him through the unbroken portion of the frozen window. Though such a thick obstacle might have slowed Rotor down, Sargasso’s mastery of the currents of water allowed him to instead accelerate the hapless Mobian’s velocity, crashing him into the rocks with bone-breaking force. 

“You look hurt,” Sargasso commented. “Maybe you better LAY DOWN!!” With a flick of its master’s claws, the water that surrounded the injured Rotor took hold of him, pulling him roughly forward to slam into the craggy rocks of the sea floor. Again Rotor grunted as he struggled to free himself from Sargasso’s magical grip. “Still not comfortable,” the lobster quipped, noticing the Tusker’s struggles. “It must be the cold. Let me warm you up.” All around him Rotor could suddenly feel it as the water went from ice cold, to lukewarm, to scalding hot. Finally managing to get his feet under him, the walrus made a desperate push as he tried to escape being cooked alive. All the while Sargasso laughed at him. 

“I must thank you, Rotor. The Tidal Stone has enhanced my powers to almost limitless boundaries,” he cackled. “No longer am I reliant on incantations or gestures… The seas themselves respond to my very thoughts and feelings.” As if to demonstrate this, the water around Rotor began to churn like a whirlpool, pulling him back down to his enemy. “I am no longer a mere creature living in the water; I AM the water, master of this entire realm and all that dwell within it.” A hard shell of ice formed to cover the mechanic’s body, leaving only his head free as Sargasso swam up to meet him, murder in his yellow eyes as his claws opened and he prepared to deliver a death blow to the Rotor’s exposed throat. “And what filthy air breather could ever best the water itself?”

Many years from now, Rotor would write his memoirs. Many Mobians that were freed of Robotnik’s rule and living lives of peace partially owed to the walrus would happily purchase this book, hoping to learn and perhaps understand something of one of the more soft-spoken members of Resistance. As their hands turned to the then aged Rotor’s recollection of this part of this mission, they would no doubt all raise their collective eyebrows and wonder silently if age had not perhaps sapped some of the ancient mechanic’s brain cells enough to warp some of his memories. Surely, they would say, in all the hectic events surrounding Rotor’s battle with the underwater wizard Sargasso, as he floated, helpless to prevent his death at the hands of the fell lobster, his oxygen deprived brain had not seen the object floating between the two combatants that he claimed had been there.

It was a bubble, large and perfectly round, and clear as glass. How such a fragile object had managed to remain intact as the two sea creatures struggled against one another, Rotor did not have time to ponder as he was preparing to say his goodbyes to this world and greet the next. Sargasso too seemed at a loss for the little pocket of air’s appearance, staring at it quizzically as one might if they saw a human sized lobster walking down the street. If the presence of the innocuous looking little bubble in the midst of their conflict seemed odd, however, the results of its popping were downright ludicrous.

Sargasso had spoken the truth when he’d said that the water now responded to his thoughts, but as he’d stared at the harmless but odd bubble, it had never occurred to him that there was a mind demented enough to envision such a thing to house a powerful explosive force. Thus it was that when said force was released, Sargasso had had no protection against it and, consequently, found himself careening out of control away from his intended victim and back to the floor below. Sputtering a little as he collected himself after the wholly unexpected attack, the lobster looked up to see a green duck floating above him, a manic look on his face and two more of the same bubbles in his hands.

“You like ‘em?” Bean called down to the confused lobster. “I call ‘em Bubble Bombs!” So saying the Dynamite Duck hurled the two underwater explosives down at Sargasso, relishing it as he scrambled out of the way to avoid being blasted.

For his part, Rotor had suddenly found himself being pulled back and upwards, a furry paw gripping the ice at the base of his neck. Craning just enough to see Bark’s yellow posterior as the polar bear drug him to the surface, the walrus let out a gasp of disbelief, a tactical mistake considering this was air he could ill-afford to spend. Perhaps sensing his parcel’s mistake, Bark jerked upward with a massive pull of his muscular arm and Rotor found himself able to breathe again.

“This is the second time I’ve had to save your butt, Freedom Fighter,” Bark growled at the teen, still holding him by the icy collar at the base of his neck. Having gotten to chide the smarter Mobian, Bark’s eyes cast around as he watched the now rough and writhing seas, the result of Sargasso’s exertions in trying to eliminate Rotor. On the beach nearby, several unconscious walruses lay, as well as a rather big whale that seemed as though he had been lashed to the docks in a fairly rushed attempt to keep him from floating away. “So I guess you weren’t making all that stuff up about the lobster.” Having spent the better part of three days trying to put a end to the threat Sargasso posed all by himself, Rotor took this opportunity to vent some of his frustration at the polar bear’s callousness.

“Well thank you for figuring that out before Armageddon came!” he yelled at the mercenary. Bark favored Rotor with an annoyed stare that said very effectively that Bark would have little problem with holding Rotor underwater and NOT letting him back up again. Thankfully, avarice won out over wraith this time.

“Were you telling me the truth about those ten thousand mobiums?” Bark asked, staring right into Rotor’s eyes.

“Yes,” the walrus lied; the direness of the situation sufficient for him to put all the conviction he needed into the words.

“All right then, you’ve got yourself some back-up,” the polar bear proclaimed as two massive paws proceeded to effortless break the icy shell that surrounded the Freedom Fighter. Both of them took a deep breath and once more dove under the churning water.

Beneath the sea, Bean was holding his own against Sargasso, who found himself forced to use his newfound powers for the mundane task of swatting away the seemingly limitless number of bubble bombs the duck was lobbing at him. Unbeknownst to the mercenary, however, was the fact that a tendril of water was creeping around behind to grab him for the lobster. Though it might have been easier to simply create a watery hand for the job, or even freeze the duck where he floated, desperate situations often cause one to utilize tactics they are most familiar with. Before the tendril could strike, though, its form was disrupted by Bark and Rotor as they crashed through it.

“What took you so long?” Bean asked.

“What’s our target?” Bark replied, completely ignoring his partner’s inane question.

“He has a sea-green stone on him that’s amplifying his powers, and we have to destroy the crown on his head too. Do that and we can stop this madness,” Rotor explained, pointing to the only one of the targets that was visible.

“Destroy my crown!” Sargasso cried. “What makes you think you’ll ever get close enough to try?!” So saying Sargasso began to twirl around in the water, generating a monstrous whirlpool about him. Before long the whirlpool began to ripple and change shape, its figure becoming more and more solid as it did so. Though he had not been present in Station Square during Sonic’s final defeat of Perfect Chaos, Rotor had gotten a full accounting of the creature from the returning Freedom Fighters. As the walrus stared at the watery dragon Sargasso had created to shield himself, he couldn’t help but think of the chao’s god of destruction again.

Composed entirely of water, the apparition looked like a water dragon, massive fangs erupting from its mouth and several wiggling limbs extending from its body, each one subject to the will of the creature floating almost serenely inside of it.

“You got a plan for this Tusker?” Bark asked. “Cause if not we may just have to reconsider helping you.”

“Do you honestly think he’s going to let you get away now?” Rotor quipped. But the polar bear was right, they needed a plan or they were as good as dead. As the watery monster began to approach them, inspiration finally struck Rotor. “You two keep him busy,” he commanded as he began to swim off, leaving behind a startled Bark and Bean.

“What are you going to do tubbo?” the indignant duck asked.

“I’m going to get us some help,” Rotor called back. Though Bean was quite tempted to volunteer for this assignment, his retort was cut off as a tendril of water wrapped around his body. Fortunately this was broken by Bark.

“He better have one good plan,” Bark sourly mumbled as he freed his friend, “because I don’t like being the distraction.”

&&&&&&&

In truth, Rotor’s plan was more of a hunch of a desperate gamble. While his two mercenaries kept the lobster wizard busy, the walrus made a quick beeline back to the wreckage of his U-Frame. The insides were once more flooded though, and, even if he’d had time to repair the damage completely, there was no way he’d be able to make it watertight again. As he looked at the still whole grappling arm, pulling forth his tools as he did so, he understood that this was not what he wanted to do. As he glanced over where the battle raged, he also knew he did not have much time.

&&&&&&&

“Boom boom boom!” Bean cried in mad delight as more of his trademarked Bubble Bombs exploded all over the watery creature he’d been set to fight. Nearby Bark protected his green partner by smashing any of the tendrils that got close to him. Inside his aquatic protector, Sargasso was beginning to grow tired of this exercise. No longer fearful of Bean’s explosive attacks, he had time to plan and, most importantly, to think. Summoning the power for the Tidal Stone, Sargasso issued forth a command to each and every liter, drop, and molecule of water in the vicinity and smiled with satisfaction as it pulled back, away from the two mercenaries presently attacking him. Left without a medium strong enough to support them, the bear and duck plummeted to the ground, while Sargasso and his dragon remained standing tall and strong.

“It seems you have just run out of luck,” he sneered.

“Not really,” Bean yelled as a standardized bomb suddenly materialized in his hand. “Now I can use these.” The fuse lit and the arm threw, sending the bomb flying towards the dragon. With a smile Sargasso ordered one of the tendrils to move forward, encasing the bomb in water and dousing its fuse.

“Such a pity,” the lobster said in feigned sympathy. “And I’m betting those little exploding bubbles of yours are too fragile to use here. How ironic, the element you favor most for breathing now destroys your best weapon.”

“Maybe so,” Rotor called as he furiously worked the damaged and sparking controls of the now only partially submerged U-Frame, “but it makes aiming a great deal easier.” He’d finally managed to reroute emergency power to where he needed it to go, the top grappling arm. Ignoring the painful sparks that struck his fingers, Rotor aimed the three fingered appendage at Sargasso’s vulnerable form, he fired. He’d had to disconnect the retracting cable to get the distance he’d wanted but, as he watched the claw slice into the dragon’s watery form and enclose around the lobster, he felt a thrill of joy as Sargasso screamed, wrenched out of his aquatic shell and sent sailing into the air. With the wizard’s concentration broken, the water began to move back into the seas.

“PARTY WAVE!!” Bean cried as he took to the air to escape the incoming deluge. Bark, less aerodynamic than his feathered partner, scrambled over to Rotor’s U-Frame and dove inside. The machine rocked violently as it was hit from all sides by the returning waves, forcing both of the furry Mobians together as they tried to keep from getting injured. Even so, Rotor felt it as his hip slammed into the sharp edge of one of the consoles inside. This, combined with the suffering he’d endured to his back, head, and chest, made the walrus want to pass out in pain.

_& But I can’t. Sargasso’s just gone, he hasn’t been beaten yet,&_ Rotor thought as he moved his tortured body through the water, past the somewhat bewildered Bark. Not knowing what was happening, the polar bear followed, loyal to the promise of money Rotor had made to him. The two broke the surface of the water where, rather than stopping to rest, the walrus made a beeline for shore.

“What’s going on? You trying to skip out on us,” Bean called down as he trailed the two from the sky.

“Still… not… done…” Rotor managed to shout up between breaths. Once this was over, he fully planned to keep both his flippers firmly planted on dry land for the rest of his life.

&&&&&&&

Sargasso shook his head, knocking away some of the snow and slush that had collected on his craggy shell. Anger filled his heart as he thought about that arrogant walrus and his seemingly endless supply of cheap toys. The living sponge from which his outfit had been made quivered on his body, unused to being on dry land without some form of warning from its master.

“I’ll gut him,” the lobster snarled. “I’ll tear his limbs from his body and I’ll turn his pelt into a coat! And then I’ll feed his bratty brother and ugly mother to my SHARKS!!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Rotor called as he made it to land. Unfolding his legs from his tail, Sargasso struggled to get his bulky and heavy frame to his feet so that he could face the walrus he hated so much. The Freedom Fighter had seen better days, that much was obvious. Bruises of all sorts had cropped up on his purple body, along with gashes and cuts that had not yet had a chance to heal.

As he stood before Sargasso, Rotor just wanted to keel over. His injured legs protested loudly to his brain the harshness of trying to support his body, while his arms felt like they were weighted down by hundred pound sacks of sand. He was in no condition to fight an opponent without something up his sleeve, hence why he had moved this battle’s location.

“Rotor, dear Rotor. It would seem I have underestimated you,” Sargasso said, very surprised this soft bodied teen continued to face him. “I will give you the option of leaving now, while I lick my own wounds and prepare for my impending godhood. I’ll still kill you at a later date, but you should be able to gain a few days to say your good-byes.”

“You’re outnumbered wizard,” Rotor pointed out, backed by the snickering Bean and Bark as they clasped their hands in anticipation of a fight. “And you’re not exactly in your element, you’re in mine.”

“Quite right, quite right,” Sargasso acknowledged. “But you are forgetting one important thing; my crown.” The lobster’s eyes began to glow and the three combatants stiffened as they prepared for an assault from some as yet unseen beast. “Normally this crown can only let me control large quantities of feral marine animals, creatures with no minds or wills to break. Your herd was an exception, thanks to Robotnik’s brainwashing removing their power to resist me. But, given your recent trials and tribulations dear Rotor, I’d wager your ability to resist me has somewhat ebbed.”

“AH!” Rotor cried as he gripped his head and collapsed to his knees, under mental assault from the sea sorcerer. The same buzzing annoyance he’d felt when he’d first come to the Northern Sea was back with a vengeance, louder and more incessant than ever.

“Nice trick pointy…” Bean began.

“…but we’re not exactly creatures from the sea!” Bark called as the two charged forward, fully intending to stop Sargasso’s newest ploy.

“RAH!!” Sargasso roared as he thrust his claws forward. Sheets of ice and snow surged forward as well, capturing the duck and polar bear and stopping them dead in their tracks. “You forget, ice and snow are nothing but solid water, and under MY power thanks to the Tidal Stone!” His two distractions dealt with, Sargasso’s attention once more refocused on his psychic assault of Rotor. 

“AAHH!” the walrus continued to scream as his mind reeled from the pressure being applied to his psyche. His mind clouded as he heard Sargasso’s angry voice screaming into it, commanding his muscles in place of his own brain. For the briefest of moments, the young walrus almost felt as though he was being subjected to the roboticizer itself as he fought for control of his own form.

“That’s right Tusker, fight for all you are worth,” Sargasso sneered. “It will make my victory over you all the sweeter.” Slowly, unstably, Rotor began to rise to his feet again, his hands falling away from his head as his back went rigid. Though the strained look on his face made it very clear he was still trying to resist, his movements told otherwise as Sargasso smiled. “Come Rotor, come and kneel before your rightful master.” Slowly, grudgingly, Rotor’s body took a step forward. And then another. And then another. It was painful to watch as the noble young Freedom Fighter was forced to capitulate to the evil wizard’s commands.

“Snap out of it Tubbo,” Bean cried, fully aware of the fact that once Rotor had been dealt with they would be next.

“You have to fight it,” Bark implored. “Think of your friends, your family, your world!!”

“I… I…”

“You cannot resist me Rotor, make it easy on yourself and just give in and surrender.”

“I… I’m sorry…” Rotor finally managed to say as his face went slack and he bent down to one knee before Sargasso. The lobster cackled in delight.

“All things bow before SARGASSO!!” he crowed, raising his claws in preparation of driving them into the walrus’s soft body. “In deference to your strength of will, I shall make this quick.” Before the wizard could land his blow, Rotor, fighting through pain unimaginable in his hip, launched himself upward. Unprepared for what was happening Sargasso could not defend himself as the mechanic’s clawed hands grabbed for the crown on his brow. With every last ounce of his strength, Rotor struck, jamming the fragile Coral Crown into the hard-shelled forehead of its owner, shattering it. 

“Freedom Fighters… NEVER… surrender,” Rotor hissed right in the lobster’s face before the strength of his body began to fail him, sending him crumpling back to the snow covered ground. As he watched the pieces of his beloved Coral Crown fall from his head, Sargasso bellowed loudly. 

“You WORM!!” he cried as he delivered a vicious kick to Rotor’s side, the sensation of cracking bones music to his nonexistent ears. The walrus’s body slid on the ice as he tried feebly to defend himself. “I was going to kill you quickly but for this you SUFFER!!” Sargasso screamed as he brought down one of his claws on Rotor’s leg, again listening to the sound of crunching bones as the femur broke. Rotor howled in pain but could do little to stop his assailant. 

“Excuse me,” came a voice as a clawed hand tapped the raging lobster on the shoulder. Turning to face this newcomer, Sargasso, hampered by his own weight on land, was powerless to prevent Bark as the large polar bear leveled a large fist at the arthropod’s chin and punched him, sending the wicked wizard tumbling across the ice. Yellow eyes cast about to the icy prison the Mobian had once occupied, noticing that it was now broken.

“Very cute, but you’ve only accelerated your own demise,” Sargasso quipped as he thrust his claws forward. “Or have you forgotten I control all water, even the ice itself!”

“Not… without… this!!” Rotor growled back as he held up his hand, in which he clutched the Tidal Stone, pilfered from Sargasso without the lobster’s notice when the Coral Crown had been destroyed. Realizing his peril, Sargasso immediately moved to reclaim his treasure from the stricken walrus, only to be beaten by Bean who grabbed the stone first.

“Gee, this is sure a neat little trinket,” the green duck said as a bomb appeared in the same hand as the stone, actually affixed to the object. Quickly he cast the object out into the sea and watched as the bomb exploded in an intense blast of light and sound even Bean hadn’t anticipated. “Dat blowed up real good!” Bean said in excitement, then he turned his billed face back towards Sargasso, a new bomb formed in his hand.

“Now let’s see,” Bark said as he began to count off on his claws. “You’re outnumbered, you’re on dry land, and all your toys are broken.” The big polar bear proceeded to crack his knuckles. “Oh I do hope you want to continue this.” Sargasso cast a look of pure hate at the quickly fading Rotor. 

“I assure you, Tusker, I will neither forgive, nor forget this,” he sneered before he threw himself on his back and slid quickly back into the water to escape. No doubt there would be two very angry mako sharks and four extremely irritated Freedom Fighters looking for him. As he watched Sargasso finally leave Rotor let out a sigh of relief as the arms that currently propped him up finally gave way to weariness. With a last happy glimpse of the sun, darkness engulfed the walrus for the third time.


	6. Epilogue

His head was pounding. His ribs were aching. His leg was seriously demanding the right to secede from the rest of him. And still, through it all, Rotor found himself slowly regaining consciousness. Once more he felt warm, a thick blanket draped over his chest. This time no bindings held his arms or legs, at least not to each other, though he could feel bandages wrapped around his leg and chest. Slowly he stirred, unsure of the reception he was going to get.

“Look Bunnie, he is awakening up,” a voice said, a strong French accent clear in it.

“He sure ‘nough is,” a more feminine voice called in an equally strong southern accent. “Come on Suga, come back to us.”

“An…Antoine? Bunnie?” Rotor asked as his eyes slowly opened. He was lying in a soft bed, his head propped up on a pillow, inside a building quite obviously made of ice, another igloo, and a big one too. “How…? What happened?”

“We was kinda hopin’ you could fill us in on that,” Bunnie responded. “You just kinda disappeared from Knothole a few days ago.”

“Jes, jes, Soneec and Tails have been running zhemselves all to rags trying to find vous,” said Antoine. “Zhey were convinced some creepy creep of Robotneek’s had managed to steal you.”

“Sally’s poor little fur has gone all gray trying to figure out where you went to, least when we realized you had gone missing.”

“I left a note,” Rotor explained. 

“Well it wasn’t nowhere to be found,” Bunnie responded. “Then we got that call from you, but it was so weak and garbled we had a tough time figuring out where ta go. Suger-Hog and Tails high-tailed it to New Megaopolis to make Robotnik spill his beans, and Sally’s been sending teams out looking for ya in every direction. It was only when lil’ ol’ Nicole detected all the energy that was bein’ released up here that we put two and two together and figur’d you’d be four.”

“There was a big problem up here,” Rotor explained as he began to get up. “But I took care of…AHH!”

“My baby!” cried a gruff sounding voice that still managed to sound feminine when two massive arms grabbed the walrus as he began to fall roughly back to his bed. “Rotor the doctor’s said you shouldn’t move; you’re hurt,” said a female walrus as she gently lay the convalescing Freedom Fighter back down. For his part, Rotor’s eyes went wide as he recognized both the form and voice of the female that had rushed to his aid.

“Mom?” he asked in amazement.

“Unless there’s some other female walrus who calls you her son,” Mrs. Tusker said gently, straightening the blanket that shielded her second born from the elements. “Oh Rotor I’m so proud of you.”

“How… You’re… You’re not brainwashed zombies any more!”

“Yes, we all just… woke up on the beach,” Mrs. Tusker explained.

“When I broke the Coral Crown… It must have broken Robotnik’s control over you guys as well,” Rotor realized. “So, everyone’s back?”

“As near as we can tell dear.”

“Zhey have been most happy about it too, apparently,” Antoine pointed out, a smile on his face.

“We’ve also been worried. When that polar bear and duck brought you to us, we thought… we thought…”

“I guess I was in bad shape.”

“You shoulda seen it,” a lighter, but still gruff voice suddenly piped up as Skeeter entered, a look of excitement on the calf’s face as he stared in awe at his older brother. “You looked like you’d been fighting sharks or something. And you won!” Rotor released a pained chuckle as he thought about how correct his younger sibling was. That was when his mind locked onto the mention of Bean and Bark. As if he himself were a wizard, Rotor’s thoughts seemed to summon them to him.

“Where is he?!” Bark growled angrily from outside the igloo.

“You can’t go in there,” a gruff male voice commanded. This was then followed by a painful cry and a hard thud as whoever it was that had decided to intervene was disabled by Bark. The igloo’s door opened with a loud bang as both Bean and Bark entered, neither one looking happy as they caught a look at the walrus lying still on the bed.

“You and I have problems Tusker,” Bark growled.

“Yeah tubbo, after we saved your blubbery butt you have the nerve to stiff us!?” Bean added in as the duo advanced. Their progress was again halted, though this time they were halted by the blade of Antoine’s sword and the missile in Bunnie’s cybernetic arm.

“Ya’ll didn’t think we’d let ya jest waltz in here and beat on our friend, didya?”

“Ruffians such as zhese are just learning none of zhe manners.”

“Back off Freedom Fighters, this is between us and the walrus,” Bark commanded, fully prepared for a fight. 

“No, that’d be us, _sug_.”

“What’s the problem?” Rotor asked, though he knew full well what Bark was angry about. Hopefully if he let the polar bear vent, it would make calm him down enough to be willing to accept the situation Rotor had been forced to place him in.

“We just got back from inspecting that sub you ‘gave’ us,” the polar bear explained. “It’s a total wreck!”

“You promised us a sub, you better be able to deliver.”

“I did promise you a submarine,” Rotor conceded. “I just didn’t say it was working.”

“Why you…!” Bark moved forward, but again was stopped by Antoine’s blade. “Oh I see, you knew your little pals were coming, so you figured you could trick us, is that right?”

“No, I always keep my word. The bathysphere is still usable, you just need to have it repaired, and its computer even has its blueprints in it, so you don’t need an expert,” Rotor explained. 

“We never would have helped you if we’d known that.”

“I know that’s why I didn’t tell you. If Sargasso’s plot to drown the world wasn’t moving you, what could a broken submarine do?”

“And the ten thousand mobiums you promised? Are they in Robtropolis currency or something?” Bark sneered. Rotor exhaled a little.

“No, I could pay the money I promised, but we had to beat Sargasso if you wanted it,” he said. “Mom, can you hand me my tool belt.” Keeping her eyes glued to the intruding polar bear and duck, Mrs. Tusker brought the asked for item over to her bedridden son. “Of course your suspicions were right, if I’d told you how I was going to pay, you’d probably have said no.” The tusked Freedom Fighter opened one of the pockets of his belt and pulled out four jewels; a ruby, an emerald, a sapphire, and a topaz stone, each one the size of Bark’s fist. Each looked absolutely flawless, though that would not stop Bark from later having them appraised. They’d been pilfered from the horde Sargasso had made, though why he had taken them Rotor had not known at the time. It was hardly as though he could barter them with Sargasso himself. Still he had taken them, and now he had a use for them. With something akin to an apologetic look on his face, the walrus offered them up. “These should more than cover the ten thousand, and repair the bathysphere for you. And probably even outfit it with new stuff if you’re smart about spending. Do we have a deal?”

“Usually,” Bark began, moving over to the walrus, even as Antoine’s sword kept him covered, “a bargain is made before the work is done. But as beggars can’t be choosers.” So saying Bark took the gems from Rotor’s outstretched hand and walked back to the door.

“Aw, no mashed walrus,” Bean said in a disappointed voice. Before they left, Bark turned back towards Rotor.

“Like the lobster said, Freedom Fighter, don’t expect me to forget this. Next time you want to hire us, you better have something better on you than a scuttled ship and a few pebbles.” So saying the big bear left the domicile. Before his own departure, Bean blew a kiss back to Rotor.

“Toodlie-oodlie-oo,” he called in a happy voice before a yellow hand reached back in and yanked him out by the head.

“Well I’m glad they’re gone,” Mrs. Tusker said as Antoine and Bunnie’s respective weapons were put up.

“You an’ me both Missus T,” Bunnie responded. The southern belle then did turn to Rotor. “So sugah, now that you’re awake an’ everythin’, there is somethin’ I need ta ask ya.”

“Go on,” Rotor encouraged.

“What’re ya gonna do now?” This question appeared to also have been on Antoine’s mind for some reason as the young coyote looked at him with the same expectant expression as his wife.

“What do you mean?” Rotor asked, confused as to where his lifelong friends were going.

“Rotor, mon ami, it has surely not escaped your notice zhat Robotneek, he has none of the interest in zhe frozen north, oui? And it would certainly not be anyone’s intentioning to make you continue to fight when you don’t have to…”

“What are you getting at Twan?”

“We just want ta know… if you WANT to come back ta Knothole with us.” Rotor’s eyes widened, unable to believe what he’d just heard. For a few brief moments, anger, true and righteous, welled up within him. How dare these two ask him that? Hadn’t he been in this war since its very inception? Hadn’t he fought just as diligently as they, perhaps moreso considering his own limitations on the land? To ask him such a question was… insulting.

Just as quickly as it came, his anger subsided. He was not the type of Mobian who was ruled by such an emotion, especially where his friends were concerned. Perhaps it also helped that he understood where they were coming from. There was not a Freedom Fighter alive, even amongst the original six that did not dream of getting to spend the rest of their lives in peaceful tranquility with their loved ones someplace Robotnik wasn’t going to come. 

And now Rotor had been given that opportunity. Aside from a few relay stations that barely warranted maintenance, let alone protection, Robotnik was not interested in the Northern Territories, hence why the brainwashed walruses had been relatively safe from him. Though he still knew not the fates of his father and elder brother, the young Freedom Fighter now had his mother and younger brother to think about. It wasn’t as though it would be difficult for him to find a place amongst the herd, especially not if the cheerful sounds outside were any indication.

“No one would sink any less of you if vous decided to be staying,” Antoine assured him.

“No,” Rotor responded, not a question but a statement. He wasn’t the hero that Sonic or Sally were, and he may not have provided as much mission support as Antoine, Bunnie, Tails, or Dulcy did, but Rotor was still very much a part of the team. Though it didn’t happen as often as with others, how many times had their survival depended on what his skills and his abilities? Even now the city of Knothole was being protected from Robotnik’s military by a shield of Rotor’s design. What would happen if such a situation, such a need arose while Rotor was living the “good” life up in the North? And while Tails was no doubt smart and very capable, the cub lacked the walrus’s vast experience with mechanical engineering. Much as his heart yearned to stay with those who he hadn’t seen for so long, the young Tusker knew where he needed to be.

“I need to go back,” Rotor stated. “I can’t just… abandon you guys for my own happiness.”

“That’s not what they asked dear,” Mrs. Tusker pointed out. “The question is not whether or not you’re needed; the question is whether or not you want to.”

“I want things to be the way they were before Robotnik conquered us,” Rotor responded. “I want to be with you guys. But if I do that, Robotnik wins, he forces one of us to call it quits, and I can’t let that happen.” Painfully Rotor managed to sit up. “I can’t come home yet, there’s still a job to do and doing it means neither you nor Skeeter will ever have to worry about being made slaves again. That’s more important than what I want.” Carefully, Rotor’s mother embraced her son in a hug.

“Very well, I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed, or that I won’t worry,” she said. “But I am very proud of you, and I know your father would be too.”

“Well zhen, we actually brought zhe Freedom Stormer so, if you would be liking to leave, I am sinking zhat Knothole might have more equipment to help you be recovered sooner, Oui?”

“If ya’ll don’t mind being loaded on in a stretcher that is,” Bunnie interjected with a smile.

“After the stuff I’ve been through, I wouldn’t mind being rolled onboard,” Rotor responded with a stiff laugh.

“Then just give me a moment to pack my things,” Mrs. Tusker interjected, a statement that caused her elder son to twist his head quickly, a movement he regretted later.

“What are you talking about Mom?”

“If you’re going to Knothole like that, then I have no choice but to come with. Skeeter, pack a bag for yourself,” she commanded, and the little walrus shuffled off to his room.

“No Mom, I can’t let you go to Knothole, it’s not safe.”

“Safe shmafe,” she responded. “If you think you’re getting away from me when you obviously need a mother’s care the most, you’re a lot dumber than you profess to be. Besides, it’s only until you get better.” Without another word the she-walrus shuffled off as well, presumably to get her things. Rotor turned to his friends.

“Any chance we can get out of here before she comes back?” he asked desperately, not at all interesting in the ribbing he’d get for having his mother come all the way from the North just to care for her sick calf. With snide smiles on their face, both Bunnie and Antoine shook their heads. “This is gonna be a looong recovery.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Several months later found Rotor walking with a cane down the path that led to Knothole’s docks, a rolled up piece of paper under his arm as he moved. His body was no longer festooned in bandages, casts, and other evidence of medical protection and he felt fairly good, despite his new limp. Dr. Quack had assured him the need for the walking cane was a temporary one, though he had said the limp was most likely permanent, a result of his hip and leg healing incorrectly when Sargasso had damaged them. Of more inconvenience, at least from Rotor’s point of view, were the new glasses he now sported. One of the blows he’d taken to the head had been severe enough to permanently damage his vision, giving him a mild case of astigmatism. Though it did little to hamper his ability in his workshop, at least as long as he wore his glasses, the typically absentminded inventor did find it difficult to keep track of the small frames, even when they most often turned up on his own head.

“Yo ho ho, Rote,” called the familiar voice of Sonic. At his words, the walrus shook his head in a manner indicating the joke the hedgehog used was getting just a tad old. Once he’d sufficiently rested from his ordeal, Sally had arrived at his hut ready to debrief him, and carrying quite a few chiding remarks over his reckless act of leaving without telling anyone what was going on. Over the course of his story, he’d wound up telling her about his revealed connection to Captain Tusker, a fact his little brother couldn’t help but overhear. Not quite realizing his elder brother was not overly interested in the notoriety such a relationship would generate, Skeeter crowed the news at the top of his young lungs, lauding the fact that both his brother and his distant ancestor were great heroes. Of course the fact that quiet, unassuming Rotor was related to a swashbuckling adventurer like Tusker became a source of great amusement for Knothole’s resident Champion who couldn’t help but get in some good natured ribbing.

“What’s up Sonic?”

“Where’re you off to in such a hurry Cap’n?” Sonic asked, and again Rotor rolled his eyes. 

“I was headed down to the docks. I’ve got a new idea I want to begin working on, now that I’m ambulatory again,” Rotor responded. “And please don’t call me ‘Cap’n.’”

“Oh come on, you’re the first pirate I’ve ever met,” Sonic called as he began to walk with his friend, deliberately going slow for the hobbled Mobian’s benefit. “Besides, if I can’t kid ya about that, I’d have to start comin’ up with good ones about that horde you got back North. Wish I could get bank like that on one of my missions.” The hedgehog chuckled, no doubt envisioning the mountain of chilidogs such a pile of treasure could buy.

“The treasure’s not mine Sonic, it belongs to the herd… And maybe to Acorn if they consent to it.” It was not overly surprising that, upon hearing of the discovery of Tusker’s treasure, the King had become very interested in re-establishing ties to the Northern Territories he’d up until recently considered unimportant. Though the Kingdom of Acorn had indeed been quite wealthy, ten years under Robotnik’s rule, coupled with the fact that most of the royal treasury was now a radioactive pile of sludge, meant that the Kingdom of Knothole was running near empty. Now that the herds had access to a vast amount of wealth, the aristocratic Acorn was falling all over himself attempting to make them understand they were all part of one big happy family. Rotor had little illusions as to just what was going to happen, but since he had forsaken any private claim to the treasure, save the jewels he’d used to convince Bark and Bean not to pull his tusks out by the roots, he was content to let the situation handle itself.

“Well hey, maybe you can swing by my place tonight for dinner. Figure it might be a little early for you to be going back to your own cooking, ‘specially now that your Mom’s back up north.”

“Thanks Sonic, but I think I’d like to spend some time in my workshop, catch up on some of my inventions.” It was at this point something quite unexpected happened. Sonic, the boundless ball of energy that could never stay still, stopped in his tracks and heaved a sigh.

“Not for nothin’ Rote, but maybe you should consider bein’ a little more sociable,” the cobalt Mobian said.

“I always thought I was very friendly,” Rotor responded, somewhat puzzled by his long-time friend’s comment.

“Not friendly, sociable,” Sonic corrected. “Go out more; hang with other people, not just with your stuff.” Sonic put a hand on the walrus, a gesture of friendship. “It’s great that you wanna help us by makin’ all these cool gadgets and stuff but… It was a full day before we even realized you were missin’.” Rotor’s eyes widened at that. Though Bunnie had mentioned the note never being found, he’d assumed someone would notice his lack of appearance when dinner came around. “Yeah, I know. But you’re always off by yourself, doing whatever experiment that’s hit you, so, and I’m not trying to hurt ya or anything, you’re kinda like a part of the scenery these days. If Bunnie hadn’t been lookin’ for ya to borrow your fishing rod, we might never have known you were gone. And then we got that garbled message screaming you needed help, and I come back form Buttnik-town to find Antoine and Bunnie moving you on a stretcher. ‘t’s not exactly somethin’ the ol’ hedgehog needs to see, Rote.” Rotor considered these sage words from the normally less-than-sagely Sonic Hedgehog. 

“Guess I have been kinda keeping to myself lately,” he admitted. 

“Like I said, it’s great you have a place you like to hang out, but let us know you’re alive or something. We are your friends after all.”

“I guess I do tend to get absorbed in what I’m doing.”

“Natch, inventin’s your thing, I get it,” Sonic said. “Look, Mom’s making fish sticks for dinner tonight, come on over, eat some, enjoy some company that doesn’t need to be oiled once a month.”

“Well…”

“And bring whatever plans you got cookin’ in that noodle of yours,” Sonic added, trying to tempt his friend further. “I may not be able to understand ‘em but I’m betting they’re right up Tails’s alley.”

“Okay Sonic, I’ll be there,” the walrus relented with a smile. “Now, can I go down to the docks for a while if I promise to send up signal flares?”

“I’ll be watching for ‘em Rote,” Sonic warned with a laugh as he sped off. Waving his friend off, Rotor pulled the rolled up blueprints he’d held under his arm. Unfurling the paper, he smiled lovingly as he looked at the plans for the Bathysphere II. Necessity may have been the mother of Invention, but the walrus still had a secret underwater path out of Knothole, and no submarine to use it with.

The End…


End file.
